Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn
by Zenappa
Summary: #1 in A Change in Heart Sherlock Holmes series. It's been a year since the "Game of Shadows" that Holmes and Moriarty played. Everyone is settling back into their normal lives, that is until she showed up. The adventure continues with more murders, love interests, and of course mystery! AGOS spoilers! ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

**_Author's Note: _Hey everyone, it's me Zenna. Long time no see right? Yeah sorry about that. So here's the scoop: I went and saw Sherlock Holmes 2: A Game of Shadows the other day and I absolutely loved it! I was so inspired by the soundtrack and the movies that I decided to write a sequel… Yeah nothing new there and you all will prolly hate this and say that I have too many stories (which I do but I'm planning on continually updating them all still no worries). But I'm really excited about this and I'm currently obsessed with old Sherly! I even went to Barnes and Noble today and bought the first two volumes of The Complete Sherlock Holmes ;D I can't even take it haha… **

**So here's what I decided to do… I posted the prologue to my Sherlock fic below. If you guys want me to continue or have me stick with my POTC stories (for now ;D), just let me know in a review or PM, but preferably a review ;) Your feedback decides the fate of this story. I made the prologue short and sweet so you wouldn't have as much to read as usual. If you want me to continue, the usual length will be observed (around 4,500 words). **

**Anyway, this story takes place one year after A Game of Shadows. There are major spoilers throughout the story so don't read if you don't want the second movie to be ruined for you! Just a fair warning! Although the prologue is safe because no names are mentioned ;) So for all of you out there who haven't seen it yet, you're in luck. The prologue is spoiler-safe! :D **

**If you want me to continue, I'll set a series name, theme song and all of my usual series junk! Just a bonus ;) But be honest with me please! ;)**

**So please let me know what you think by reading and reviewing! Enjoy! **

**~ Zenna :D**

**_Disclaimer: _I don't own Sherlock Holmes, as much as I hope and pray :( It's sad I know… The quotes and the actual story part belong to me however (no duh lol). **

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><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**Prologue**

_When you have nothing left to hope for, find something._

A light dabble of snow was falling on the never quiet, always bustling city. People were crowding the streets, squishing each other on their attempts to reach their destination. Young ladies were skipping up and down the sidewalks, humming tunes that their mothers taught them while younger boys were busying themselves by conversing with the stage coachmen and their horses. Mothers rushed themselves home with their arms full of packages, goodies and food for their children while some fathers abandoned their work for tomorrow. The bridge-builders were still at it however and continued to bang away at the tall skyscrapers; the shopkeepers started to close their doors and whisk customers away with their hand-made "Closed" signs. The last church session had just let out and religious families emerged from the dark building. The priest waited until all of the people had gone, even the alter servicers, before leaving himself. The city was quiet after the sky started to darken so the priest left the doors unlocked, figuring no one would dare to bother an olden church for its time. The skies were just starting to turn darker by the daily dusk and everyone was hurrying home to their families after a long day of work. I, however, was just starting my day. I had no family left; my last remaining relative had left me a year ago. I wasn't saddened by his loss, I had known my father quite well and what he was capable of. He had used his life on selfish and twisted things, not even bothering to ask about me or my "spur-of-the-moment" mother. I was never supposed to be born, but my father knew how to screw up other people's lives quite well. So I continued to live on, knowing of only my father and no one else. The only reason I was upset by his death because I was deeply concerned at what kind of man would drive to murder someone else. But I knew already, and I knew why the man killed my father.

Because he was only trying to do good to the world and I knew it.

I felt bad for both sides of the situation because either side was only trying to do what's right, or at least what they thought was right. As much as they didn't want to admit it, the father and the man who killed him were quite similar. They both fought for what was right, they both had loyal sidekicks, they both were willing to kill for what they wanted to achieve, they both wanted to stop each other from stopping themselves, and they both had absolutely positively amazingly quick minds. I was never close with the man who killed my father but now I wish I had been. He was the only one that I knew of that could outwit my father and live to tell the tale, you see. But everyone's luck runs out at one point or another.

I stared across the street at the now empty church, waiting for the right opportunity. I had come to say and pass on my final words and thoughts to the dead. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts overcome me. It was difficult, you see, to have so much knowledge and put it to good use, I could only think of one person who successfully did it. It was that person that I would eventually kill, but how could I know that at the time? A full year after his death, my mind still swarmed with memories and final thoughts of my father. I worshipped every minute of time I spent with him because it was few but I still felt strongly attached to him. He had managed to do that to every single person he met; he took what they loved, squashed it, and twisted the knife in the person's heart so it killed them to even survive anymore. I couldn't let it show however, I would still avenge his death and would let his thoughts overwhelm me until I couldn't breathe. It's just good business.

The snow melted into rain as I stood there across the cobblestone street, watching and waiting for my moment to strike. The water droplets hit my raven-colored hair and I gently pulled up my navy blue cloaked hood, it was better this way. Since my father's death, I became the newest threat around the city. I had a reputation for unkindness and my own twisted ways, perhaps I was more like my father than I gave myself credit for.

A carriage crossed my path, being pulled by a creamy white horse that tossed its mane back and forth in agitation. I felt bad for it, I always had a soft spot for animals, and someday I figured it would be my downfall. My father taught me to never have any weaknesses and by the time I turned twenty, I simply did not care to listen to him anymore. I vowed to myself that I would never fall in love, that always seemed to be the reason behind everything these days and I despised it. Love made people change and it made them vulnerable. I spat on the ground just in spite of the whole thought and I shivered with the passing rain.

I watched as the horse's hooves splashed into the puddles in the cracks of the cobblestone street and sprayed the surrounding people with droplets of water. Idiots, they should have known better. I shook my head and began to cross the street as I realized that the horse-drawn carriage had passed. My heels clacked on the street and I felt eyes boring in the back of my head. It was quite annoying actually and I glanced from side to side as I reached the other side of the street. I glanced up at the tall building in front of me and I slowly ascended the steps into the church.

My navy blue dress billowed around me and I self-consciously glanced from side to side once more. No one seemed to think twice about a lonely lady with no family entering a church to pray, but I was going to do more than that. I pushed open the large brown heavy doors and stepped into the church. I took a deep breath and passed the little sinks at the back of the church. I entered through the main church area and sought out what I was looking for. I ran my finger along the pews, picking up dust as I went. Wrinkling my nose, I realized not many people came here anymore. The last full house gathering that took place here was about a year ago, and that event was exactly why I was here. I bunched up my dress and walked forward through the pews and up to the main alter, except that's not what I was here for. I wasn't here to steal or do anything; no I wasn't that kind of person. I was here for an actual purpose, an actual reason. I was here to visit someone.

_When everyone knows your name, face, what you're capable of, your death can be tragic, helpful or even heroic. _

Yes, his death caused a certain uproar in this town, many people became divided after this fact. I wasn't part of the uproar per say, but I became popular around this town soon after. My father taught me to bide my time well and soon after my father's death and this uproar, I made myself known. I made myself feared. I knew what to do, I knew what I was going to cause, and I still did what I did because if I didn't, this town would be quiet and subdued. Well, we couldn't have that now could we? I turned at the main alter and in my line of vision was my destiny. Yes, this is what I came for. I walked up to the column that I was after and walked around it once, making sure that this was it. As I saw the name written on a plaque nailed to the marble column, I knew that my life was about to get a whole lot more interesting. You see, my dreams (or I guess you could call them nightmares) came true that day. I knew that what I was about to do became a whole lot more dangerous and a whole lot more intriguing. Something about this name changed my world.

I pulled out a small bouquet of flowers from under my flowing blue cape draped around the shoulders of my dress and sniffed them once. No one would know I was here and no one would know where these came from. But I would and my father looking down on me would too, and he would be proud. That I could guarantee. You see, even though we didn't get along that well, I still cared for him even in his death and I knew that despite our recent events he would get his revenge. I was merely a pawn in his playing, ready to take over and take control. Smiling, I laid the flowers at the foot of the column and knelt down in front of it. I ran my fingers over the name once more, smiling to myself all the while. This was it, this was my time to show this little town just what I would do if they crossed my path wrong. They didn't quite know my full extend what I myself was capable of yet and I was intending on showing them quite soon as a matter of fact.

These flowers were no ordinary flowers, goodness no. What kind of person would I be if I didn't always have a trick up my sleeve? I would be very boring and inadequate and we could not have that now can we? I smiled to myself and stroked one of the petals daintily. Every single flower had a hidden meaning and I chose that for a purpose. No one else was brilliant enough to figure it out in this town, the only man that might understand was the one whom I was laying these flowers for. So my secret was safe, naturally.

There was bird's foot for revenge, mulberry for sadness, a rosebud for weakness, a hint of dead leaves symbolizing the tragic death and finally acacia for concealed love. This man was all of those things and more, shameful I hadn't gotten closer to him before his demise. But no matter, it was all over now.

I placed the bouquet carefully on the marble floor and sighed. Why must it be so hard to just accept the fact that it was over? Even then, I should have known that it wouldn't be over just yet. Hell, it wouldn't be over for quite some time. Why I even thought it would be for one second was baffling to my mind, but I forced myself to accept it because that's what I wanted to think.

That was my first mistake.

I should have known, I should have understood or comprehended in some way, but I didn't because I didn't want to accept that one fact that maybe the story would still continue. That maybe it wasn't over. That maybe this was all for nothing.

_I think for all of us in this town it was maddening not having him around. It was very difficult at first, and then we all slowly adjusted back to our normal lives._

A crack sounded from behind me and I looked behind me, letting the sunlight from the church windows splash my face and dabble onto my dress. I blinked one carefully lidded eye and turned back to my subject. Oh it wasn't over yet, not until I say it is. The little town around here thought nothing of me now, maybe they were a little feared but that would get me no where. I had to do something about it and do something I would do. Even if the man that I just laid flowers for said it wasn't over, even if he was somehow still alive, it wouldn't matter.

Because he owed me.

He owed me because like it or not, I saved the one thing he cherished the most. I saved his weakness, his vulnerability, oh yes I saved the one thing he loved in this world. And so he owed me, and I would hold that over his head. But it wouldn't matter because he was dead and would stay dead. As much as I tried to convince myself of this fact, I attempted to push any other doubts out of my mind. He was nothing to me, he was nothing compared to me. I stood up and smirked at the little memorial I had just created. Oh it certainly wasn't over yet, that much I knew because I said so. The town thought I had given up, I hadn't done anything in a while and I was looking forward to my next trick up my sleeve. You see, it's not over until I say it is. I had my doubts but now everything was going to come together perfectly. Oh it was far from over indeed. The town had finally settled back into their normal lives and thought it was over. Oh it was far from over, they were just too naïve to see past their own noses. Like I said before, they thought it was over when they finally adjusted back to their normal lives from the shock.

_But then I showed up._

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_**Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know what you think in a review! And if I should continue, let me know about that as well! :) I love hearing from you all! **

**See you soon,  
><strong>**Zenna :)**


	2. Be Prepared

**_Author's Note: _So it looks like I'm continuing this huh? Good, I'm quite excited about this story! :D I'm a major Sherly fan and I can't wait to hear what you thought about all of this! So like I promised, I brought up some things and introduced some things to this brand new series! XD**

**First things first however, I want to thank my reviewers! All 10 of you :D I love you! So here's to you! **

**_Vanya Caladwen: _God, I really love you, you know that? XD Of course you do! I'm so glad you've enjoyed the movie and the prologue, one of these days I'm taking you to see SH2! It's as good as the first, I would say, except for the beginning… But I'm not going into it… So you better not be reading this because there's many spoilers up ahead! **

**_Irenlock Forever: _My first anonymous reviewer on this story! :D Awesome! You're a big fan of Irene and Sherlock? Guess what? Me too! Haha but I'm also a fan of… well I'm not going to tell you because that would ruin my story lol. Maybe I will, maybe I won't, only time will tell.**

**_Sherlock Lover: _Hey I'm in love with old Sherly too ;) Who isn't for God's sake? I'm flattered by your review. Seriously! I'm not even kidding, I'm not sure I'm the best writer there is but thank you for saying so. Yes, I'm trying to make things suspenseful for all of you out there, many cliffies coming your way!**

**_The Sock That Never Stays Orange: _Hello you! You also better not be reading this because of spoilers ahead, only the prologue was safe ;) Just think, four more days! I can't wait to hear what you think! :) Thanks for all of the PMs and I cannot wait for even more! All of the quotes were my own, they were the woman's thoughts and I came up with them while listening to the SH soundtrack naturally ;) I'm glad you're not wary of me, I love you too much! XD Thank you!**

**_easy keeper: _Thank you for your review! :D Yes I apologize for the confusion in the beginning but I promise it was crucial to the story. Keep on reading and you won't be!**

**_WriterMonkey0626: _I'm so glad I did! That was certainly my intent! :) I'm sorry it's so confusing but I promise it was crucial to the story. Keep on reading and you won't be! XD**

**_Lady Nostariel: _You don't happen to the same Nostariel as my good friend from the website Islands of Life? Maybe? Sorry if you're not, that's kind of awkward. Annnnyyyywaaaayyyy…. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it so far! I'll keep on writing for ya! XD**

**_Aranelle Caladwen: _Hello to you too! I'm so glad you've enjoyed it so far but you better not read any more until you've seen both movies! Promise? ;) And yeah I hate autocorrect.**

**_Daughter of the Dead Man: _Love the name! XD Kind of like the woman in my story… That's prolly what you were going for. And maybe it is, maybe it isn't, you'll have to keep reading and see ;) Thank you so much! **

**_Izzy: _You don't even deserve a response lol ;) Thank you!**

**So now that that's done, I'm here to introduce a new segment to my Sherly fics. Without further ado, I'm proud to present…. SHERLOCK SIGHTINGS! Lol I couldn't think of any other name, but this is little things throughout my day that remind me of our favorite detective. If you have your own Sherlock sightings, let me know in a review and I'll post it here next chappie.**

_**So I was out to dinner with my parents and our waiter's name was Tony Holmes. I literally started freaking out in the middle of the restaurant, it was like Robert Downey Jr. It's Tony Stark (Iron Man) and Sherlock Holmes combined. It was pretty great…. - Zenna :D**_

_**I was watching the news tonight and they were advertising Late Night shows. They were saying that Late Night with David Letterman tomorrow night featured Robert Downey Jr. and I died. Needless to say, I DVRed it ;) - Zenna (again) :D**_

**Okay next order of business… I have not chosen a theme song for this series yet ;( Sorry folks, I've been a little busy… If you have any suggestions, please feel free to let me know.**

**Finally, know where the title came from? ;) If you do, let me know and you'll get cookies! The edible kind of course ;)**

**Oh yeah and there's a ton of AGOS spoilers so you've been warned!**

**I think that's it for now! Please, I beg you with all of my heart to read and review! You'll feel better for it! I love hearing from you! I love you all!**

**~ Zenappa :)**

**_Disclaimer: _I don't own Sherlock Holmes unfortunately, that's the one thing I didn't get for Christmas… Poop nuggets. I try not to let it get to me lol.**

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><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**Chapter 2: Be Prepared**

It had gotten dark very quickly. After the light snow and rain from last night, morning had come all too fast. Because it was nearing the end of December, the days were getting shorter and shorter. Light would come early on in the morning and then slowly fade by high noon, it didn't last long at all. The streets were still busy until the late afternoon yes, but things slowly got more complicated as the year progressed. Children weren't outside as much as they were before and mothers worried more than ever because of the upcoming holiday season. Wreaths were hung outside the doors and trees were bustled inside quickly, as if they didn't want anyone else noticing. The poor were slowly maddening as the cold got to them and the rich didn't want anything to do with them. Fathers worked later hours to keep up with all of the city's excitement and families were gathered less and less until the actual holidays hit. But all in all, there was one thing that kept the people moving.

News.

Everyone looked forward to knowing the news of the day. They wanted to know the latest happenings around the town, what was going on and who did what. It was a tradition for them to get the morning newspaper and read it, it was packed with informational happenings and was helpful to know what was going around in London. So in every way, the news kept people going through the day.

Now more than ever.

The news helped people get over their grief, it helped them learn, it helped them realize the true meanings of the town, and it even helped them to understand a few things. All of a sudden, about a year ago, the news started to get more interesting. Every day the cover story was something actually interesting and the inside of the pages weren't filled with junk. While the obituaries were growing for some odd reason, the rest of the newspaper was too. It wasn't the same anymore, it changed for the better.

Take today for example. The cover page had everyone reminiscing of the past year's events; it had everyone all in a tizzy. For the cover page had a picture of none other than Sherlock Holmes. The title said "Holmes Spotting" and went on to explain how the detective had inspired many other people to take on the profession themselves. For people reading the newspaper, it brought back many memories of last year and how solemn they had been. But they had gotten through it; somehow they adjusted back to their normal lives eventually.

If you flipped to the inside of the newspaper, past the picture of Holmes and the cover story, you'll find a story about the wonderful Dr. John Watson and his adventures with Holmes as well as his successful doctoring events. There was a picture of him as well, leaning over a balcony looking grave and depressed. There was a section that mentioned that over the past year, despite his recent marriage, how much the good doctor had changed. It was appalling to see how one death can change an entire man's life. The newspaper mentioned how he's no longer looking for any more cases and how he will leave that up to the "new Holmeses" as he called them in the article.

Then if you turned the newspaper to the obituaries, you would find a large picture of Irene Adler along with the details of her funeral. They just recently discovered her body and immediately placed it in a casket without any other thoughts and started to work on the funeral arrangements. Since she had no family left, Mrs. Hudson, the nanny of the empty and old 221B Baker Street house, offered to pay because she had taken such a liking to Holmes. She felt bad that tragedy had to occur so close to one another and therefore would arrange the funeral.

Flipping the newspaper yet again, there was another article that read "Danger Never Sleeps" along with a picture of a raven-haired woman with a gun who seemed to be causing mayhem around the town. It was odd to see such a pretty woman go so bad and resort to doing things like this. It went to explain that if you saw her, make sure to stay out of her way for she is a very dangerous criminal.

There was also an ad towards the back of the newspaper about a young gypsy's new location. Madame Simza's had now moved to a new location on Baker Street, closer to the center of town than her last location in a club.

In addition, there was another ad that explained that the rich man living not far from the busy city of London was looking for help to get his mansion cleaner than before. If there were any questions, contact Mycroft Holmes.

There were also many small articles in the back of the newspaper. There was one about how the madman Moran was still on the loose a year after his boss's death. There was another about the wonderful antics of Lestrade and how everyone respected him even more now after last year's events. There was another one still explaining the wonderful details of the marriage of Mary and John Watson.

You see, a newspaper told many things to the public of the town. It was popular for a reason, it was popular because it told what people needed to hear. Still, the newspaper would be folded up each morning and delivered to the people who wanted it and had a subscription. Every morning, everyone expected to see that white bundle of papers at their doorstep. It was a tradition of sorts, and even so, it was special to some people.

The newspaper wasn't just printing the facts, it was printing the truth.

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><p>Despite all of the bustling outside, one man sat inside his study, staring at his typewriter like it was the last thing he had. In a way, it was. That typewriter and the contraption lying next to it was his last connection to his old life; he hadn't been the same man he was before, he wasn't the same man he was a year ago. Everything had changed and the man still hadn't gotten over the events of the previous year yet. It was getting to the point of insanity.<p>

To get his mind off of something else, he opened up this morning's newspaper and groaned when he saw the cover of the front page. He really didn't want to read this anymore, even the article about himself… especially the article about himself. He didn't want to wallow in the past anymore, he wanted to do something for a change. He needed to get over himself, but sadly, he knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. He placed the newspaper back down on his desk and rubbed his temple vigorously. It was a troubling time indeed, he thought while sighing to himself.

_It's been a year. One year of sadness, one year of agony, one year of confusion, one year of loneliness. If it wasn't for Mary, I think I might have killed myself by now._

The man sighed again and continued to stare around the room. He swiveled around in his chair to look out the window behind him and he looked down at all of the people below him, enjoying their day in London. He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Every day was a reminder of things that he could have prevented, every day was a sharp pain ripping through his chest, every day was just pure agony for the poor doctor. He glanced up, looking up at the darkening sky and shook his head. He tried to force himself to listen to his brain and accept the consequences of his actions. That it really wasn't his fault at all, that he couldn't have done anything, that it wouldn't have changed a thing. But he knew that really wasn't the case at all.

He turned his chair back around and sighed once more, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. He stared at the typewriter once more, half-hoping that the more he looked at it, the more it would make sense. That simple punctuation mark affected his life for around ten months now, it was shortly after the previous year's events that things started happening to him. He resisted the effort to bang his head on the desk and cry quietly to himself; he couldn't start that now, it was unthinkable. His fingers hovered over the typewriter as if he wanted to add something but he took them away, not being able to touch what was put there. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. He had just finished his latest and last adventure story when Mary had brought in a strange package for him. Upon opening it, his insides flared with excitement and he quickly descended the stairs, questioning Mary about the postman and what he looked like. She quickly dispelled all thoughts that it was his dear old friend and had reassured him that he was just going through grieving phases. He had trudged back upstairs disappointedly to find that at the end of his story a simple question mark had been added. Someone had been in his room and he thought he knew who it was. But there had been no other signs since and his hopes had been fading ever since. Now, they were almost all gone.

But he was still here, wishing and hoping that the facts were wrong. He was still here, staring at that little phrase that almost changed his life.

The End?

_I had gotten my hopes up when I saw the package come in the mail, the oxygen contraption. Even more when I saw that question mark added to the end of my last novel, but that was ten months ago and there's been nothing ever since._

The man got to his feet reluctantly, not wanting to tear his eyes off of the typewriter. He hadn't had the heart to take the piece of paper out, it had gotten all dusty sure but he half-hoped that that certain person would come back and leave more clues. He sighed and rubbed his temples once more before stumbling over to the front of his desk.

He gathered up the darts that were lying on the corner of his desk in his study and studied one. Oh how he wished he had more hints and clues but there had been nothing for ten months and he was slowly going crazy. It was getting to the point of moral insanity. He simply could not take it anymore. Without thinking, he threw the dart at the wall, trying to aim at the dartboard that was positioned accordingly but he missed and stuck the wallpaper lying on the wall lazily. He cursed to himself and chucked another, hoping to have more luck. None. He hit the dartboard this time but only the very edges. He swore again, making sure to keep it quiet or he'd never hear the end of it, and threw another angrily. This one strayed even farther than the first and landed near the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes and threw the last two in a row, angrier than ever. They both landed in the middle of the dartboard, finally making a bulls eye. This didn't make him as happy as it should have however, the poor man was still grieving a year after the events.

"DAMN YOU HOLMES!" he shouted, shaking his fist.

He sighed and didn't do anything else. A moment later, he was disturbed once more. A knock came softly on the door and a woman entered, looking concerned.

"John?" she asked anxiously. "Is everything alright?"

Dr. John Watson turned to face his wife and sighed. He knew he couldn't lie to his wife but he didn't want to bother her with his misery and troubles and woes.

"Fine dear," he replied.

"You're obviously not fine," she stressed, playing with her golden locks tied up in a bun. "What's the matter?"

"Memories is all," came Watson's response, not admitting to anything.

"I understand," Mary Watson entered the room farther and walked up to her husband. "You're thinking of him. But you must understand that he's gone and you must move on, you can't stay locked up here forever. He wouldn't want this for you."

Watson knew his wife was right but he couldn't bring himself to do anything else regarding the topic. He would never ever move on, no matter what happens.

"How did you know?" Watson questioned, frowning and rubbing his head.

"I heard you swearing and throwing darts at the wall and I figured you must be grieving," she answered solemnly.

The doctor nodded once and turned his back to his wife, he couldn't let her know how much it hurt. Their friendship meant everything to him and now what? It was just gone.

"Well actually," admitted Mary, rubbing her husband's shoulders. "There's someone here who wants to see you."

Watson pivoted back around and frowned, "A client?"

"No, he says he's an old friend," she said, kissing Watson lightly on the lips. "Now clean yourself up and head downstairs."

Watson's mind spun wildly. An old friend? Could it be? He didn't even bother to make himself look presentable. He simply tore down the stairs after his wife and stopped in the living room where the surprising guest was.

"Lestrade?" questioned Watson, feeling his hopes undoubtedly sink. "What are you doing here? I didn't even know you still worked in London!"

"Don't you ever read the paper Doctor?" Inspector Lestrade smiled at his old partner in investigations. "Especially after last year, I wouldn't leave."

It was all Watson could do to nod in polite response.

"I'm afraid I've come with personal news rather than business," he continued without a second thought.

"Business?" Watson interjected. "My good fellow, I don't take cases anymore, not without-"

The doctor broke off, not wanting to bring up the touchy subject. Especially not in front of his old friend and old partner supposedly…

Lestrade coughed once, "Well anyway, I'd thought you'd like to know that 221b is about to go on the market to be sold."

Watson stumbled backwards in shock, "What?"

"Well you see, Mrs. Hudson needs to rent it out in order for her to keep the apartment," the inspector explained carefully.

"But what of his things? They were his pride and joy!" Watson quickly protested.

"I understand Doctor," Lestrade nodded. "But sadly, unless you were to buy it, there's nothing you can do."

"Thank you Lestrade," he clapped the inspector on the shoulder and pulled on his coat. "I must be going now, feel free to stay with Mary for a cup of tea."

Without another glance backwards, Watson tore out the front door and ran down the streets of London to his old apartment.

Upon reaching the beloved 221b Baker Street apartment, he sighed, taking in the memories that came with the house. He walked up to the front door and pushed it open, surprised to see that it was still unlocked. He sauntered into the open apartment and looked around the foyer. It still looked the same as his last visit almost a year and a half ago.

"I'm sorry we're not available for showings right now," came a voice towards the back of the apartment, near the kitchen.

Watson's throat caught as he recognized the voice and he hurried into the other room. He appeared in the kitchen doorway not a moment later, drinking in the sight of his old home. He caught a sight of an older lady cooking at the stove, her back to the kind doctor.

"I told you, we're not open right now!" repeated the lady a little more harshly.

"Mrs. Hudson?" asked Watson, his eyes shining with a sparkle that hadn't been in there in quite some time.

The landlady herself spun around, surprised herself, and her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

"Doctor Watson?" she questioned, and then immediately ran over to the man and hugged him around the waist.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson," Watson chuckled. "I heard you were putting the apartment for sale once again."

Mrs. Hudson pulled away flustered and nodded sadly, "I'm terribly sorry John, but I had to! How else am I supposed to make money? And with sponsoring that poor girl's funeral?"

Watson nodded understandingly, "Can I go upstairs and-"

He broke off for the second time that day and bit his lip. He needed to see a few things, he needed to comfort himself as well as the beast that lay inside his heart.

"Of course," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "Anything for you Doctor."

Watson gave a weak smile and headed up the stairs towards his old home.

* * *

><p>Reaching three hours later, Watson descended the stairs, his steps still full of sadness. His eyes were red and puffy, almost as if the doctor was crying. He still favored his uninjured leg still with his cane and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. He spent his time in his friend's old room, looking through some of his most treasured belongings. He didn't want to move much but he took some of his old friend's beloved things. He had stuffed them in his briefcase carefully and would put them in a safe place at his new house. Mrs. Hudson met him at the bottom of the stairs and gave him another hug.<p>

"Can you do me a favor?" Watson asked, looking down at the wonderful landlady.

"Of course! What is it?" Mrs. Hudson questioned.

"Don't let anyone touch his things until the house is sold," Watson made the landlady promise.

Mrs. Hudson nodded, wide-eyed, "I wouldn't dream of it."

Watson gave another ghost of a smile and headed out the door, sadness filling every inch of his being until he stumbled into the doorway of his current house. Mary was waiting for him, he could tell, he just simply knew these things. He walked slowly into the kitchen where she was sitting at the kitchen table with her hands folded together neatly and worriment written all over her face. She jumped to her feet as soon as she saw her husband in the doorway.

"John!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

He grimaced, avoiding her question, "I'm sorry I ran out on you, I had to see for myself. I had to know if it was true, I had to-"

Mary cut him off by pressing her lips to his. When they broke apart, Mary smiled encouragingly at her husband.

"It's okay John dear," she said with a smile. "Whatever you need to do, we all miss him too. But this is something I realize you need to do on your own."

Watson nodded and relaxed against the table for support. He needed it as well as his wife, he needed the comfort and the relaxation. Otherwise, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

"I'm here for you," added Mary, placing her delicate hand on top of his.

He tried to give a genuine smile to his wife, showing that he cared for her, but it didn't really work out. It ended up coming out as a forced grin and she laughed predictably.

The laughter ended abruptly however when a sudden gun shot was heard from outside on the streets. This was followed by a bunch of screaming and a few people cackling. Mary looked at Watson in fear and he pushed her behind himself in protection. He grabbed his walking stick or cane or whatever he felt like calling it at that moment. He knew that there was a knife concealed in it and that would be all he could do right now. He walked forward cautiously, something wasn't right.

Watson tried to convince himself that it was just a single shot that was an accident but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was going on. There hadn't been any trouble in about a year, the same time as the other tragic events. And now this? It couldn't be a coincidence. He fretted in his mind and he hurried outside to see what the commotion was. To his dismay, Mary followed him out.

"Stay inside!" he warned his wife. "It could be dangerous."

"I'd rather accompany you than have you be out here all alone," she stated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Stay behind me," he added as an afterthought when he realized that he wasn't going to change Mary's mind.

They watched frightened as the streets cleared out of the way as another gunshot was heard. They looked at one another in even more fear as a group of shadows emerged from around the corner. As the lead came into view, both husband and wife gasped but for different reasons.

Mary gripped her husband's arm, "John, I've read about her in the paper!"

But Watson barely heard her.

"My God," was all he could choke out as he realized the identity of the one responsible for this mayhem.

**_A/N: _It's quite hard writing for Lestrade, sorry if he's OOC. I don't think I got him quite right. Oh well, you win some and you lose some. Let me know what you think about the characters… **

**Oh and sorry for the cliffie lol…. Not too bad actually…**

**REMEMBER TO READ AND REVIEW! XD Thank you and I love you all! :)))))))))))**


	3. Expectations

**_Author's Note: _Yes! Another chapter under the belt! XD I'm quite excited for this chapter at any rate, I feel like it's going to be good! :) But of course you will ALL write a review and let me know what you think right? *persuades everyone to nod like robots* Yay good! ;D**

**So down to business, I still haven't come up with a theme song yet but I have some suggestions from fans and ideas that I'm working on. So please be patient and if you have any ideas whatsoever, I'd be glad to hear them!**

**Now it's time for our favorite segment that everyone has seem to enjoy… SHERLOCK SIGHTINGS! XD Just remember, if you have your own Sherlock Sighting, please PM me or write it in a review and I'll post it next chapter! :)))))**

**_So I was in this club at my school and we were doing this project about future professions that we could possibly have. We each got to pick out of a hat or something and my group got "Detective!" While they were discussing what to do, I went all Sherlock on them and started quoting the movie non-stop. It was great! -_ Aranelle Caladwen**

**_My friend introduced me to one of her friends a few months ago. Her name is Samantha Sherlock and, really funny, her boyfriend's name is John lol. -_WriterMonkey0626**

**_I was watching TV with my parents last night and all of a sudden, Sherlock Holmes 2 preview came on the TV. At that same instant, the phone rang and while I didn't pick it up, the caller ID said Holmes Insurance XD _- Zenna XD (that's me)**

**_I was playing Words with Friends with Vanya actually and I realized that I could make the words HOLMES but it said it wasn't a word ;( I had to stick with MOSTLY instead… *growls* - _Zenna XD (that's me again!)**

**And finally to my faithful reviewers, you just keep on coming and I LOVE IT! This is why I'm updating so quickly ;D**

**_WriterMonkey0626: _I know I'm sorry, I hate reading cliffies too but I love writing them! There might just be one at the end of this chapter too ;) Just a hint…**

**_Izzy: _Thanks again for the other night! I had a great time as well! :) Yes my obsession is surely showing ;D Happy New Year to you too!**

**_Sherlock Lover: _Well I wouldn't call myself amazing but thank you anyway! I love having faithful readers like yourself. I'm glad it's less confusing for you! I try my hardest :D**

**_Goldfish-eyes: _Haha why thank you! Sorry about the cliffhanger but it had to be done… I love keeping you guys in suspense and it honestly makes me write faster! Thank you for your kind words.**

**_Korkman2: _As you can see, I am indeed continuing it! :D Thank you for your kind words.**

**_TheSockThatNeverStaysOrange: _It's okay, we all have those days! ;) I'm glad you also enjoyed this chappie! I know you can't and I love you! Thanks for everything!**

**_Aranelle Caladwen: _Yeah it probably does make more sense now, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed them! Aren't they just awesome? Anyway, I'm really happy that you kept on reading and reviewing my stories, much better than your sister of course ;)**

**_Daughter of the Dead Man: _Sorry, I can't go out revealing everything in an author's note now can I? But rest assured, all will be revealed in this chapter. Your questions will finally be answered! Yes, I would love to hear your story as well, keep me updated! XD**

**_Update Soon: _Thank you for your review! I'm so glad that you like this story.**

**_tanti no hime: _Hmmm… you never know! Keep on reading and all will be answered in this very chapter! Would that be such a problem if it was?**

**_Your Awesome Reviewer: _Yes you are indeed! XD Love the name! Your prediction is a good one, I too wish Irene was still alive but I don't know where this story will take me. Actually that's a lie lol, I know exactly where this story is taking me but I'm not sharing. You'll have to wait and see!**

* * *

><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**Expectations**

_When everything you've ever known is crumbling at your feet, make something of it._

Not many things can leave Dr. John Watson speechless. It was a very difficult feat to accomplish and whoever had done the deed should be very proud of themselves. The man was a strong doctor who wasn't fazed by blood or guts or spillage of any sorts. He performed many surgeries and medical treatment without even flinching. His adventures with Holmes had made him stronger too; he was no longer weak and rushed into places without thinking or batting an eye. He could make people weak themselves by just glaring at them and not putting any physical harm towards them. Holmes had taught him never to have any weakness but he had two as a matter of fact: Mary and Sherlock Holmes himself. And almost everyone knew it except for Holmes of course, it was a complicated matter. None the less, he was never speechless around them. Even his time with Mary hadn't left him any more than pure pleasure, he wasn't afraid to be himself around his wife. He would show emotions yes, but never pure mouth-dropping surprise. Well almost never… When Holmes had tumbled over the edge of the mansion into the foaming waterfall below, Watson had been speechless and completely surprised, half-hoping that there was some mistake. And yet, there wasn't. No matter what he thought of, Holmes was still gone. Yes Watson was a man of many characters, but he was almost never vulnerable, let alone speechless.

Until now at any rate.

Watson knew that something was wrong as soon as he heard that single gun-shot, no matter how far in the distance or how normal it seemed. He learned a lot from Holmes, even if he didn't want to admit it, and he put his skills to the test even when he didn't even know it. His senses were tingling before he stepped foot on the porch to watch the group of trouble makers down the street, but now that he's seen them, things just got a lot worse.

Watson stood in the shadow of the doorway, his mouth agape and hanging open as he watched the group of people parade down the street. His wife was still standing in front of him, much to his orders not to, with a confused expression on her face like she still didn't understand something. Watson took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself down. The first shock was overwhelming but now everything started to fall into place. Had he really not realized what the date was? Had he not realized it was exactly a year since the horrid events of last year? How could be so naïve to not remember minute details such as this one? He scolded himself and sighed, staring at the person quickly approaching him. Damn, they looked so much alike. He hissed and Mary turned towards him surprised. Apparently she had not noticed his expressions before...

"What is it John dear?" she asked with wide eyes.

But Watson barely heard her. He kept on staring and gaping, trying to make more sense of the situation. It just didn't make any sense! Why would she be here now after a year? After things had finally just settled down? He frowned and rubbed his temples for what seemed like the millionth time just today.

"It's just-" he attempted to answer his wife but he trailed off, shaking his head in apparent disgust.

"I know I've read about her in the papers before," commented Mary, her eyes wide as ever. "But who is she?"

Watson still stood in the shadow of the doorway, hidden to everyone on the streets but his wife. He refused to step out any further until he made some sense of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak but before words could flow out of his mouth, another gun shot rang through the air.

Mary leapt backwards in self-defense and shock, but the bullet wasn't directed at her. Smoke poured into the air from the gun that fired the shot and everyone looked around in shock to see what damage was made. As the smoke cleared, a raven-haired woman stepped into the middle of the street. She had just rounded a corner and her followers behind her looked as pissed as ever. She smirked at all of the people watching and kept her gun pointed towards the civilians.

"Out of my way," she hissed with a menacing voice towards a poor beggar stumbling into the center of the street in obvious oblivion.

Watson and Mary looked on with shock and utter disgust written on their faces. There was nothing they could do without getting shot themselves, and that's how the rest of London felt as well…

"I said move!" the black-haired woman growled and fired at the old man.

Mary gasped and turned away into Watson's chest as she didn't want to see the beggar fall to the ground, dead. Watson pushed her away and stepped out of the shadows, not caring anymore who saw him. He wanted to be known, he wanted to let this woman know that this was unacceptable. He curled his lip and slowly took one step forward so that the setting sun glinted off his pocket watch and buttons on his waistcoat.

"That my dear," Watson said with a glaring tone, answering his wife's earlier question, "is Victoria Moriarty."

Mary's mouth fell open with shock as she turned back to stare at the woman with obvious curious amazement. Watson stared at her too but right as Mary looked away in disgust, the woman looked up and met Watson's eyes. Recognition flared in her eyes but she didn't say a word, just glared at the good doctor with piercing blue eyes.

"She's the last living relative of the late professor," Watson added, bending down to speak to Mary but not breaking eye contact with the woman.

He assessed her by his averted glances and she continued to stare back, waiting for the doctor to crack. He flinched once or twice but didn't move, he was afraid of what had just happened.

_On the shorter side, approximately 23 years old, has a tattoo of an owl on the back of her left wrist, has a back wound from her father's antics which is why she can't bend over and touch the ground. Had a semi-close relationship with her father, is full of regret and revenge, has a murderous streak but didn't used to be this bad, hatred scorned deep within the depths of her heart turning it black and cold._

But yet on top of everything that just happened, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She never asked for this life, her father probably forced her into this… With Professor James Moriarty, you never know. Now he wasn't sure though, he had just seen her cold-heartedly murder a poor old man in her way. He shook his head; this was no excuse for such behavior. Despite Mary's protests, he took another step towards the woman, Victoria. Victoria's head snapped to the side and walked stiffly to the side of the road, the side of the road where Watson's house was located. The doctor had seen this coming however and practically all but shoved his wife back in the house.

"Go Mary," he hissed quickly. "Get back in the house, now!"

Victoria reached the steps to Watson's house and he stepped further out from the doorway. He adjusted his stance, shifted his cane to his better side so that he could quickly extract the knife if he needed to, and stared back at the dark-haired woman.

"Victoria is it?" he questioned with an overpowering authority.

"Doctor Watson is it?" retorted Victoria, mimicking the doctor's voice. "Don't give me your bullshit, I know what you're up to."

Watson held his hands up in the air in a form of surrender, "I can honestly say I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were Sherlock Holmes's partner, were you not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was," replied Watson.

"Then you better watch your back," she hissed, getting even closer to the doctor's face and pulling out her gun but keeping it to her side. "Holmes murdered my father and I'll make sure that he'll be avenged."

Watson opened his mouth to respond with a cunning answer but Moriarty's daughter cut him off once again, "That's a nice wife you've got there, shame to lose something so fine isn't it?"

She smirked once and stalked off back into the crowd of what were obviously her followers. Watson took a deep breath, taking note of her threats and turned to walk back inside the house. But a glint of silver stopped him and as Victoria was assembling her troops, a familiar face caught his eye.

"Damn," he swore and the man looked up, tipped his hat to the doctor and went back to standing at Victoria's side.

"You really assembled all of the troops didn't you," he whispered to himself before shaking his head and heading back inside.

But as Watson so bluntly left the scene of the crime with no more than a simple threat and a wave, the familiar face stared at the house, memorizing its features.

Because Sebastian Moran didn't forget anything.

* * *

><p>Victoria Moriarty was not a patient person. She tried to be, she really did but things simply got in the way. Take the old beggar crossing the street for example. She warned him to move, she didn't want to barrel into him, that would just be plain rude. So she had hoped that by threatening him with her gun he would, but sadly he didn't seem to notice and he met his end. It wasn't the worst that could happen however, no riots started of course and nothing became of this minor event. It had made her known as the merciless creature roaming the streets of London, striking fear into the hearts of everyone around with her stares and a flick of her wrist. She really hadn't wanted to kill him but she knew that she couldn't back down on her threat once she had made it. She had honestly thought he would move but what kind of leader would she be if she didn't follow through on her threats? She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn't concerned for anyone, of course not! She was the daughter of Professor James Moriarty for God's sake!<p>

She was surprised to see how big of a crowd turned out to watch her activities of strolling through London, making her presence known. She was even more surprised to see the good doctor of the town there, simply watching her without any move of any sort. Yes, Dr. John Watson wasn't a man to double cross, let alone cross paths with once. She smiled at the memory of his scarred face and the anger flaring behind his eyes. She had left him speechless and full of anger but he couldn't do anything because he knew what she would do to him and his family and friends if he did. And so she won, for now at any rate. She felt accomplished with herself actually as a matter of fact, she had wanted - no she had needed that. She had needed that extra boost of support from her followers and allies as she cussed at the doctor and made him feel like no more than the way his partner ended up. She could also laugh at the face he had made when she brought up the great Sherlock Holmes. He was obviously still grieving, after an entire year still. Didn't that man have any sort of feelings other than grief, remorse and regret? She could tell it was a touchy subject, along with his wife naturally, and it made her even more joyful to know that she could get under his skin and make him twitch with uncomfort. It was such a pleasurable feeling to know that simple fact.

When they had returned to their headquarters, the place where Victoria had told her followers to meet, she had nodded once to her allies that signaled their leave and headed upstairs to the second floor of the abandoned warehouse. This place was perfect for meetings and planning sessions with Moran; it was quiet and no one bothered to come in anymore because they all believed it was haunted. She rolled her eyes in disgust, how could people be so foolish? No matter, it was to their advantage that they were here. She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down with her head in her hands, just thinking. Thinking and waiting…

A chair scratched the floor behind her as someone pulled out a chair from under the table. She winced at the sound but she turned away as it signaled the person's arrival.

"Ah just the person I wanted to see," Victoria sat up and smiled at the man still shadowed by the doorframe. "I need to speak with you."

Sebastian Moran nodded back to his friend's daughter and sat in the chair next to her. "And what is it that you want?" he asked with a solemn tone.

"I need you to do me a favor," she added with a twisted smirk appearing on her face. "And I think you might enjoy it."

Moran raised an eyebrow questioningly but bobbed his head once more all the same. He didn't ask any more questions, just gave her a look that simply willed her to continue with her obviously thought out master plan.

When she didn't continue right away, he placed a hand on her shoulder lightly to comfort her but she instantly shrugged it off and got to her feet. Victoria was not a person that you could comfort and take care of, she cared about no one but herself. She stared at the broken wooden floors and closed her eyes, envisioning the future events to come and how they would unfold. She twitched her nose and another smirk unfolded onto her delicate pale face.

"You know, your father did the same thing when he was thinking," Moran chuckled, taking another step closer to her.

"What?" she questioned, resisting the urge to swivel around and look at her friend in the eyes.

"The nose twitching and the smirking."

"Were you very close?" Victoria asked, still not turning around to meet her second-in-command in the eyes.

"Moriarty wasn't close to anyone," he shrugged. "But I suppose you could say that."

She turned around and gave Moran a brief smile before she molded back into her hard normal self. She wasn't vulnerable and she showed no feelings. Moran was an exception at some times when she needed help but no one else for certain. She made sure of that.

"So what were you saying before?" he pressed on, seeing this change in his friend's daughter.

"Right well, here's the plan," she said in a rush and took a step closer to Moran so that she could whisper the plan in his ear.

When she had finished explaining what they were going to do, a smile appeared on Moran's face. This was perfect. Victoria hadn't been lying when she said that he was going to enjoy it, it was the perfect revenge on one of the people he hated most. It was going to be a unforgettable evening for the town of London for sure.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen as quickly as morning had come earlier today. The stars, one by one, appeared in the sky, each showing variety and uniqueness. The moon was plump and full this evening, shining its bright white light upon the cobblestone streets of the town. London was quiet at this time of night, just a few stragglers returning home to their families. A bag of food lay out in the streets, forgotten and lost, with tomatoes and bread scattered throughout the sides and curbs of the cobblestone road. A cart, without the horses of course, was settled in front of the residence plaza down the street. For the most part, the town was quiet and shutdown for the night.<p>

However, Mrs. Mary Watson was still up inside of the house, wringing her hands together and sighing in frustration. After her husband missed out on dinner and he still wasn't home, she started to worry. What was holding up? Surely he would have stopped home before hand and warned her that he might be working late tonight, wouldn't he? She ran her fingers through her blond locks and pulled them out of the neat bun she had been wearing all day. She forced herself to take a deep breath and attempt to relax. Everything was going to be just fine; John was just working late that's all. He must have been overwhelmed, between his overload of patients and grief still filling his heart. She smiled and nodded to herself once, that was it. She took a seat on the couch, breathing evenly now that she successfully convinced herself that he would be home in no time. But a second later, she jumped back up and resumed her pacing around the small house. She couldn't not worry though! He was her husband for crying out loud! She sighed once more and held onto the wall for support while she breathed in and out deeply.

A noise that sounded like a faraway wind whistle came into her ears and she frowned. What was that? She grabbed the nearest thing to her and chuckled when she realized that it was just a lampshade. What good was that going to do if a burglar entered her house? She quickly tried to remember everything Holmes and John had told her over these past couple of years in case of an emergency but her mind drew a blank. She held her breath and prayed that she wouldn't need them. Another wind whistle came from outside the nearest window to her and it was louder this time. She frowned once more before suddenly flattening herself to the ground and closed her eyes. She remembered John talking about this sound once and that was why it was so familiar. She remembered that John had told her that if you ever hear anything that remotely sounds really high-pitched, duck. It was most likely a gun with a silencer, blocking out the noise for anyone else around the person that the murderer was trying to kill. But why would someone want to kill her? She had done nothing wrong!

Sure enough, her window crashed and broke down to the floor in a million pieces as the small bullet passed through the glass and buried itself into the wall right where she was standing not thirty seconds ago. Her heart started thrumming in her chest and tears welled up in her eyes, she was going to die. She could just feel it! Why would John pick tonight of all nights to work late? This wasn't fate, this was obviously planned. Anyone could have figured that out! She stayed onto the ground until she heard the high-pitched gunshots stop. She frowned and slowly got to her feet, pleased that she outsmarted the killer. Even as she peered through the open window, there was nothing out there and no bullet came to hit her in the head. She was safe.

That is, until a hand clapped over her mouth and dragged her into the dark abyss of no return.

Meanwhile, Dr. John Watson was running late and he didn't like it one bit. He had already missed dinner and it was going on eleven o'clock and the steady flow of patients kept coming. He wanted to close the doors to his office and run home to his wife where he would spend the rest of the night in her arms. But sadly, that couldn't happen until the flow of patients slowed down enough for the rest of the nurses and staff to take care of them. He rolled his eyes as a particularly burly man entered his room. Watson nodded once politely and looked the older man up and down.

"Now what seems to be the problem sir?" Watson asked politely, flipping through some medical records.

"I think I have a misaligned spine," the man grunted and turned around to show the doctor his back.

Watson grimaced once at the hair along the man's spine but ran his hand along it anyway. It didn't feel out of place but he still needed to be sure.

A half hour later, Watson helped the burly man to his feet and out the door. He hadn't had any back problems at all actually but he seemed to be in pain so the doctor prescribed him with some drugs to take until the pain went away. As he waddled out of the door, Watson noticed that the man had a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the back of his left wrist. He frowned; he always hated the concept and look of tattoos. It wasn't natural or right, plus who pricked themselves with needles just for fun? A suspicious feeling crept throughout his body and he shivered uncontrollably although he wasn't sure why. He looked down at his hands and realized that he had his past three medical patients with him in his hands. He shook his head and chuckled at his foolishness, all the while stepping outside of his office and heading towards the main entrance. The burly man was on top and his description seemed to fit him perfectly.

"_Thomas Liebmann is a stout short man with short brown hair and hazelnut colored eyes," _it read with a haunting glare. "_While he doesn't visit the doctors a lot, he always seems to be healthy. He also has a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the lower portion of his left wrist."_

Watson shrugged and flipped the next folder open to the previous patient. As he read through the next two patients' descriptions, something clicked inside of him and a warm feeling of dread pulsed through his veins. It shouldn't have spooked him so much but yet it did anyway.

For the past four patients that came to visit Dr. John Watson all had a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the back of their left wrist.

"Shit," he swore and ripped off his coat.

Watson tore out of the office quicker than he would have liked, not bothering to close or lock the doors. He threw the medical folders and supplies on the front desk, grabbed his waistcoat and ran out the door. It was so late to find a horse and buggy or carriage so he ran home, his heart pounding uncontrollably. He finally reached his house and there was an eerie silence about it. He daintily opened the front door, which he noted was ajar, and proceeded into the kitchen and main section of the small house.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone home?"

There was no response.

"Mary?" he tried again, his voice getting more frantic as he passed from room to room. Finally, he stopped in the middle of the living room and sunk down to his knees.

There sprawled in the center of the grand room was Mrs. Mary Watson, covered in blood. She looked very much scared and very much dead.

**_Author's Note: _Ah Jesus, I found another Sherlock character I cannot seem to write in. Between Lestrade and now Moran, I'm pretty screwed lol. How did I do though? Honestly, I want to hear your thoughts (though I'd prefer if you didn't flame me XD). **

**And how about that awful cliffie? Yes, I'm just dealing those out like a deck of cards aren't I? I'm terribly sorry to all of the Mary/Watson supports out there. I love the couple as well, it was just necessary for this story. You'll see why later, I promise.**

**So just click the pretty little review button underneath this little note I wrote because you know you want to and because it makes me write faster! I truly believe that! :D**


	4. Not Over You

_**Author's Note: **_**Greetings to all! I'm loving this story so much, I just wanted to share that with you lawl. But seriously, I'm in a Sherlock mood I suppose. It took me awhile to decide whether or not Mary was actually dead and also where to go from my last chapter. I know I know, it's like the easiest place to continue from but I don't know. I'm not an average person I suppose ;) But I just wanted to say that my decisions were based on your reviews! Yes, your reviews helped to decide the fate of Mary and this story! So that just proves how much I need you all to read and review, thank you so much!**

**Sherlock Sightings: **

**I had a dream that I was at a bookstore and I met Robert Downey Jr. and he invited me to be one of the main characters on the next Sherlock Holmes movie. Needless to say, I woke up, realized it wasn't true and cried lawl. - **_**Zenappa (that's me haha)**_

**My life XD - **_**The Sock That Never Stays Orange**_

**I was watching Ellen and Rachel McAdams was on and well… just watch the video yourself and see! Even if you don't like Ellen, it has our lovely RDJ in it hint hint… **_**- Zenappa (me again)**_

**Videos to Watch:**

**youtube .com/watch?v=F-yzrr3fctE&list=FLVjDdXe6xzuPWV7oaUenq9g&index=2&feature=plpp_video **

**Recommended Stories: **

**Harry Potter and the Resurrection Movement - CPO Movement **

**The Magician's Rabbit - The Sock That Never Stays Orange**

**Reviews (thank you so much for all of them, I look forward to reading many more!):**

_**WriterMonkey0626: **_**You always seem to be my first review lawl :D I'm so glad you enjoy this story so much! I do too ;) As for did I kill Mary… Maybe…? You'll just have to read on and see! Yeah, life sucks for Watson but I promise it all plays into the story. **

_**bookmaniac2013: **_**Wow. Thank you so much. I'm glad you're so intrigued with this story. Yes, it's quite confusing in the beginning but I promise it gets better. Enjoy!**

_**TheSockNeverStaysOrange: **_**Ummmm… maybe…? Please don't hurt me! XD You might just have to hurt me… I wasn't worried of course lawl. Um not really! I love your story so much! Thank you for all of your compliments, they mean so much to me! Suggestions are always great! And yes I will for sure make sure to include your Sherlock Sighting with no explanation necessary XD leave 'em guessing haha Irene! You're adorbs my wifey/twin!**

_**Sushi: **_**My thoughts exactly XD life does suck for her but somehow our favorite characters will get through it together, I promise it makes sense in the end. I'm glad you like it so much! Thank you for your nice compliment.**

_**Vanya Caladwen: **_**Um I love you? Oh shoot… But yeah she's quite annoying in my opinion, I like some other couple so much better. But I'm not going to tell you because it might just ruin the story XD Yeah I do some crazy things sometimes, you know better than anyone XD Yeah I did say Liebmann! I threw that in there for you, my best friend in the whole entire world! Thank you for reviewing darling!**

_**tanti no hime: **_** Yeah I was considering it but it doesn't really make sense in this story, it's a great idea however. Thanks for your review! **

_**TheShow71: **_**Thank you for your review! I'm glad you like my character Victoria, I modeled her after myself and then added an evil twist ;) I love her! *coughs* Well now it's getting awkward lawl so back to the actual story… Everything will be explained in the end, I promise! :) Thank you for saying that I can kill as many people as I want, I may take you up on that offer lawl XD**

**Songs I'm listening to: **

**Not Over You - Gavin DeGraw, Catatonic - Hans Zimmer (Sherlock Holmes), Romanian Wind - Hans Zimmer (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows), Brandenburg - Black Violin, Good Feeling - Flo Rida, Without You - David Guetta, Avenger - Immediate Music**

**Thank you so much for everything! Keep on reading and reviewing!**

**~Zenna :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**Not Over You**

_If you ask me how I'm doing, I will say I'm doing just fine. I would lie and say that you're not on my mind. But I go out and I sit down at a table set for two and finally I'm forced to face the truth. No matter what I say, I'm not over you._

There was nothing unusual about this day. There was nothing wrong with having a funeral in a church, there was nothing wrong with people grieving. There was nothing unusual about the comings and goings of the people in London today, it just seemed like an average everyday thing but today was something different to one person. Today was something different to Doctor John Watson.

He would admit that there is nothing unusual about wearing black at funerals but today everyone seemed like a suspicious guilty criminal. Everyone and anyone could be a suspect in this horrible crime. Watson felt like there was a chill in the air and he stood near the altar, examining the people that walked in. Something wasn't right, he had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.

He was searching among the women mostly, trying to find the one culprit that he was almost positive was guilty of these crimes. But alas, it was harder to pick out one woman amongst many, especially at a funeral. Every woman was wearing a black dress with some sort of cloak or shawl with a hood that hid their face. Oh yes, according to the kind doctor, everyone was a suspect.

The wind howled outside and rain pattered against the church windows. It seemed even the weather was mourning the loss of dearest Mary. Watson sighed, thinking of the last time he was here in this church at a funeral no less. While last time he was slumped on the floor in the middle of winter, today it was also winter but he was staying strong today and standing up straight. He vowed not to show any weakness whatsoever and not to break down like he did last time. He should be used to this by now and while his insides were sobbing, he forced himself to remain calm. He would stand strong today, for Mary.

It was humorous how in just a year, three people who were close to him had died. He had no one left, he tried not to picture how the rest of his life would play out. He forced himself to think straight because he couldn't show defeat, no, he wouldn't let Victoria Moriarty win. It was funny how she and her father were the cause of all three deaths as well. While he promised himself that he wouldn't think of revenge, it always seemed to flicker to the forefront of his brain. It wasn't an avoidable thing, it was not simple at all. First, it was Irene Adler, poisoned with a rare case of tuberculosis because she knew too much and was falling in love with the enemy. Then, it was his dear good friend Sherlock Holmes, sacrificing himself because he knew that Moriarty couldn't win. Now, it was his dearest Mary, murdered in the comfort of her own home because she was involved with too many cases and she too knew too much. This rampage had to end, it had to be avoided. After today, two out of the three funerals would be done and Irene's would take place next week sometime. Mrs. Hudson still hadn't decided on a specific date yet. Watson had frowned upon the lack of detective work around here since Holmes passed on; it had taken a year to find Irene's body for crying out loud! He shook his head as the church door slammed open with extra force. He rolled his eyes as he saw the fairly large man enter the church.

Of course, Mycroft Holmes had arrived.

Watson, now shaken out of his reveries, scanned the pews and balcony, looking at the people gathered here today. Mary's parents were sitting in the front pew where Watson would also take his seat once the ceremony started, they were currently glaring at him and Watson sighed. He knew that they blamed him for their daughter's death and frankly, he couldn't blame them. It was her involvement with him and Holmes that had gotten her killed. Mycroft quickly approached the front of the church and took a seat next to Inspector Lestrade, the pew behind Mary's parents. Mycroft nodded once to Watson, signaling so many unsaid words, and started a conversation with Lestrade that Watson knew he wouldn't want to be part of. It seemed like the whole town of London had emptied into this tiny church for the fair maiden's funeral, the woman slaughtered for fun they called it. Watson was disgusted by the press's handle of the events but there was simply nothing he could do about it.

He was looking for one woman in particular though and he was not having any luck finding her. Victoria Moriarty. He knew somehow someway she would be here today and he wouldn't put it past her to show up, making her alibi. His lip crinkled up in disgust and he shook his head, not being able to think about that devil woman anymore. But the women dressed in black scattered throughout the church all looked the same to the doctor and he was forced to admit defeat for now. He had notified the alter servers and officials within the church about her description and to arrest her if she made to enter the holy place. But no one was being stopped and Watson made his way towards his seat.

As he stood in front of the first row of pews, he stared down at Mary's parents, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in his throat.

"I am so sorry for your loss," he said quietly, his voice cracking and he cleared his throat before continuing. "I truly am and I can't help but feel that this is my fault."

"It is," snapped Mr. Morstan and Watson cringed; this conversation was not going well.

"Listen, I never asked her to do anything she did not want to do," Watson began, trying to smoothen out the dialogue between them. "She got involved in our cases all by herself, and she knew the risks of being with someone like me. I told her everything from the start and she could have -"

"I know darling," Mrs. Morstan whispered, calming her husband down. "We both know, but we're just grieving. We know you would never put her in danger yourself."

"Thank you Mrs. Morstan," Watson put in quickly before Mary's mother could change her mind.

Mr. Morstan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, "You promised never to hurt my little girl but you got her killed anyway!"

Watson's mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Mr. Morstan was expressing what Watson's inner fears were also telling him. The good doctor knew that he was right and he never should have gotten involved with a woman. He should have seen this coming but he tried to protect her so hard, in the end it just simply failed. He sighed and rubbed his temples like he had been doing a lot lately.

"I apologize Dr. Watson," Mrs. Morstan rushed in quietly, her cheeks flushing. "My husband has a bit of trouble controlling his emotions."

"The only trouble I have," he elevated his voice with every note so he grew louder and louder, "is knowing that this man led my daughter for slaughter!"

Soon enough, everyone in the church was glancing over at the trio in concern and staring with questioning eyes. Whispers flew and gossip spread faster than wildfire and Watson resisted the urge to throw something; he had to control his emotions and stay strong. He made that vow to himself and to Mary.

"Mr. Morstan," he lowered his voice, hoping that Mary's father would get the hint. "I only wanted the best for Mary, you know that. You saw how happy she was at our wedding, I miss her too but excusing me of murder is something else entirely. Now if you have a problem with me, tell me to my face instead of making up ridiculous stories that make absolutely no sense."

Mary's father narrowed his eyes and looked like he was about to say something but Watson swept on, not bothering to let him get a word in.

"I can stand bullets and grenades and swords and daggers," pointed out the doctor truthfully. "But what I can't and won't understand is why people purposely spread rumors just to make themselves feel better. Words hurt more than any broken arm or deep cut Mr. Morstan and I won't stand here and take your vicious remarks quietly."

Both of Mary's parents were stunned into silence and Watson straightened up, feeling much better. Now that he had his say, he thought that they might change their mind on their opinions about him yet again. He sighed and turned away from them right as the grand organ started playing, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Right as he looked towards where the crowd was shutting the doors however, a young lady with wild dark hair slipped in and took a seat in the back. Watson did a double take but the woman didn't see him. It couldn't be… Could it? His mind full of his adventures from last year all of a sudden, he numbly took his seat and waited for the funeral to officially begin.

* * *

><p>"Mary Morstan - Watson was a wonderful woman," came the booming voice of the surprisingly put-together Dr. John Watson. "Wife, daughter, friend, acquaintance, client. She was these things and more to everyone here, even for you who didn't know her that well, you knew me and that was enough. I loved her so very much and I -" His voice cracked for an instant before continuing stronger than ever. "She wouldn't want to see all of her friends and family crying over her dead body, she would want to have smiling faces remembering the events of when she was alive. She deserved a better life than this, she deserved to live longer and have a bigger family. Whoever did this to her, I promise you, will be punished and I will not rest until I have found out who would be so heartless and unemotional enough to murder someone without reason. She was the sweetest person alive and would have no grudges against anyone. If the murderer can hear this eulogy, I just want to say that I'm not looking for revenge, I just feel bad for you. Someday your Judgement Day will come and you'll see that you were wrong, may God rest your soul when it happens. I just can't understand why you would kill an innocent person who was only involved by love. Go after me instead, not her, but-"<p>

He broke off for an instant, catching his breath and taking a glance around at the people.

"Please just believe me when I say that Mary's death will not be in vain," Watson continued. "She lived a happy life and I can only hope that her afterlife will be happy too. I promise you that she would have loved how many people turned up tonight, she would have smiled at all of you and thanked you to no end, she would have laughed and not wanted you to be crying over her but yet here we are. Strange things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, that's the way life works. Or at least is supposed to work, karma I believe plays a big role. Soon enough, I hope more people realize that one fact that if you do something good, it will come back to you. If you do something horrible, it will also come back and bite you in the ass. I'm only telling you this because I've been there myself, I've done some good things and some other things that I'm not proud of but throughout it all, I've learned. And I can only hope that you all learn from today's lesson too."

A woman coughed, interrupting Watson for a moment but he swept on, not skipping a beat.

"I'm not trying to deny anything, I'm not trying to change what you believe in," he added. "I only want you to open your eyes and smell the roses. Some things just won't work out no matter how hard you try and some things will just happen if you let them. I've learned from previous events that you can't go on blaming yourself. When my good friend Sherlock Holmes died, may God rest his soul, I thought I wasn't going to be able to carry on. I thought I was going to kill myself, I thought that I was going to go insane, I thought that it was all of my fault. If only I had gotten out of that door sooner, I could have helped Holmes defeat Professor Moriarty and then we would have carried on together."

The doctor's voice cracked and he noticed that everyone had their eyes glued onto him. As soon as he had mentioned Holmes's name, everyone's attention zapped onto him like a rubber band.

"But then things started happening and I realized something, perhaps a little too late," he put in, "That there was someone who stuck by my side no matter what happened. Mary was always there for me and I'm extremely grateful for that. If she wasn't there, I don't know what I would have done. Honestly, I truly don't. I regret that I didn't realize it sooner however, I should have had the courage and time to thank her and tell her how much it meant to me. I regret that I only realized this fact after she died. I realized after I found her body lying on the floor of my house that some things can't be avoided and some things can't be changed. I cannot change the past no matter how much I want to, I simply cannot do it. But I realized that this wasn't my fault. I realized that Holmes's death wasn't my fault either. The only thing I was guilty of was not realizing this simple fact sooner. It would have saved me a lot of grief and time if I had just come to qualms with this statement. I regret my decisions but my actions were my own and no one elses. I feel like if I had known that, I would have done many things differently but now I know. I just wanted to tell you of that and I hope that you have the same revelation someday as I did. You all deserve happiness but how you achieve it is all your own. Make it count."

And with that statement, Watson stepped away from the alter, bowed and went to take his seat in the first pew.

While Watson was talking, none of the other guests knew of what was really going on except for the doctor himself, the alter server and the lady in navy blue…

As the doctor's speech was just beginning, a woman slipped in through the back doors of the church and stood in the back by the pillar and placed her delicate hands on her hips. She sighed, knowing that it was a risk coming here but she knew she had to. She knew that it was all part of her plan, she knew that there was a real reason why she was here but she didn't want to admit it to anyone. Oh she knew that there was a risk but what would be a life without risks? She lived for risks, she was a criminal, she was certainly something alright.

While she noticed the other women had removed their hoods from their cloaks, her navy blue cloaked hood stayed on her head perfectly. She smoothened out her matching dress with her slightly sweaty hands and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be fine, she tried to convince herself, everything was going to be just fine. She looked around at the audience and narrowed her eyes when she only recognized a few people. What was happening to her? She knew everyone and she thought she stroke fears into their hearts but apparently she was wrong if she couldn't even recognize a few people. She closed her eyes for a moment and placed her eyes on Watson standing in front of the crowd of people. He looked stronger today, she decided. Why wasn't he more upset about the love of his life dying? She frowned, feeling left out and leaned against the pillar, tuning out whatever the doctor was saying.

A tapping on her shoulder made her jump and she turned around stiffly and suddenly, not sure what or whom to expect. Was her cover blown? Had they found her that she was here? Her breath quickened and she flung open her eyes as she spun around. She sighed and placed her hand over her racing heart as she saw that it was only an alter server approaching her. She put on her sweetest smile and cocked her head to one side.

"Can I help you?" the woman purred, blinking slowly to get all of her senses working again.

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to remove your hood," the young alter server said with a stern tone to his voice. "This is a church you know and there needs to be nothing on your head."

The woman raised an eyebrow, this was news to her. She looked over her shoulder to see Watson peering at her with narrowed eyes and she hoped that he couldn't see who it was under that hood. She turned back around where the alter server was getting annoyed. Well she'd have to take matters into her own hands if he wanted to play that card. She reached into her dress pocket and felt her fingers curl around the cool object that she was looking for. She smiled again and quickly pulled out her knife, flipping it open and placing it to the alter server's neck.

"What were you saying?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

"Nothing ma'am," he replied swiftly, knowing a threat when he saw one. "Nothing at all."

"Thank you," the woman smirked, dropping the blade back in her pocket and turning back to the service. She leaned her head against the pillar once more, knowing that she wouldn't be bothered anymore, and lowered her hood. She couldn't be too careful you know… No one could find out who she was, no one.

The alter server backed away from the maniac woman and raised one hand, catching Watson's attention. He angled his head towards where the lady in navy blue was watching the service seemingly intently and hoped that the doctor would understand. He did. Watson nodded once slowly, so it didn't seem like anything was wrong and continued with his speech.

Little did they know just how wrong they were.

* * *

><p>After the funeral was over, Watson excused himself from where he was being pounded with questions and condolences and edged to the edge of the church. He flung open the back doors and hurried out into the snow, letting the wind blow snowflakes into his face. He shielded his eyes and looked around, looking for one person in particular. He saw a flash of dark blue in the corner of his eye and swiveled around on his heel. He peered into the distance and saw the back of a woman in a navy blue dress walking away from him.<p>

"Hey!" Watson yelled, waving his arms in the air.

There was no response.

"Hey you!" he tried again, raising his voice even louder.

Still nothing.

He started to run towards the woman and she finally looked over her shoulder and saw the doctor running towards him. She panicked, the snow still guarding her face so Watson couldn't tell who it was although he had a feeling. The woman started running faster and faster until she was lost in the blizzard of snow. Watson came to a stop and swore under his breath, he couldn't believe he lost his only lead! He sighed, cursed once more and headed back to the church.

* * *

><p>Victoria Moriarty was pissed. She was not happy whatsoever with the way that the funeral had turned out. She shook her head as she stepped into the abandoned warehouse, her hideout, and headed up the rickety old stairs. She needed to get out of these clothes before someone recognized her. She sighed as she clenched her teeth together. Why hadn't her plan worked? Why had no one responded to her signal? When she had finished changing, she headed up to the third floor of the warehouse and took a seat on the only table in the room. She pulled out a dusty chair and put up her feet, relaxing while she waited for her so-called assistants to show up. They were good for nothing! She put her head on the table and banged it frustratedly a few times.<p>

A loud slamming noise made her jump again and she lifted up her head reluctantly. Footsteps on the stairs came upon her ears and she closed her eyes, picturing who was heading up here to talk to her. She figured it was one of her minions and not some one to kill her. She tossed her dagger and gun onto the table while waiting and she tapped her foot. When the door to the room flung open, she knew exactly who it was… and she was not happy.

Victoria threw her hands up in the air and leapt to her feet as soon as she saw who the man entering the room was. Her face contorted into a mask of anger and she resisted the urge to put a bullet through Moran's head.

"What the hell was that?" Moran shouted before Victoria could get out any words.

"I could ask you the same question," Victoria snarled, not even bothering to act nice anymore.

"I was waiting for a signal!" he protested.

"I gave you one!" she retorted, her eyes flaring up with pools of annoyance.

"I was staring at you the entire time," Moran said, lowering his voice just a bit so the neighbors wouldn't think that there was someone living in the old abandoned house.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, "If you honestly were, you would have caught my signal. So you obviously weren't."

Moran clenched his jaw and reached into his back pocket, ready to pull out a revolver and blow this woman's mind to bits. He didn't care if it was his best friend's daughter anymore, he didn't care if it was his so-called boss anymore, he didn't care just who Victoria Moriarty thought she was, he had had it with her and he was done. Victoria sensed this coming and tensed up, backing up towards the table where she had left her pistol. But before either one of them could do anything, the door creaked open again. This time, the person entering was a lot less furious than before. The tall, stout man entered the room, being only a shadow in the doorway. Victoria and Moran stepped away from each other and sighed, obviously still angry with each other.

"Now now children," the man teased with an airy tone to his voice. "We mustn't fight over something so childish."

Victoria sneered towards the man, "Thank you for all of your help on this but now's really not the time."

"I just thought you'd might like my input on the situation," the man drawled.

"Yes well, you thought wrong," she hissed, obviously meaning for the stranger to leave.

"But as long as I'm here, I must side with Sebastian on this one," the man had no intentions on leaving clearly.

"Excuse me?" Victoria took a step backwards and snapped while reaching for her pistol on the table.

"There'll be no need for that," the man nodded towards where she had just wrapped her fingers around the barrel of the gun. "I'm simply stating the obvious."

"And what evidence do you have?" Moran put in, speaking for the first time in minutes.

"Yes, feel free to enlighten us," Victoria retorted, still not happy with either of her workers.

"I was also keeping a close eye on you m'dear," the man addressed Victoria with a slight hint of agitation to his voice. "There was no signal of any kind coming from you."

"Really?" Victoria's voice rose an octave. "Are you sure you guys aren't blind? Because I am positive I gave the signal."

"You were hard to miss in the back though," pointed out Moran.

"What?" Victoria's voice dropped and her eyes grew slightly wider.

"Yes, you were in the back with the navy blue cloak on," Moran repeated himself, looking slightly confused.

"No I wasn't Sebastian," Victoria said slowly as if working things out in her head.

"Yes actually you were," the stranger added, still taking Moran's side.

"I wasn't!" Victoria protested. "I was sitting in the pews towards the left side in a black cloak, not navy blue."

"So what are you trying to say?" Moran questioned.

"That wasn't me."


	5. It's About Time

_**Author's Note: **_Hello everyone! Sorry, I haven't been neglecting you all, I just wanted you to know that I've been uber busy with school and dance and junk but I'm here now with an awesome chapter just for you! XD Please read and review and enjoy!

**Reviews:**

_NorthernLights25: _Thank you! I'm loving it! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

_TheSockThatNeverStaysOrange: _Yeah it did XD I love you so much, you're adorbs! :D Irene? Hmmmm… That's a good prediction, but wait isn't she dead? *gasps* Well keep on reading my friend and you shall see, let me know what you think darling! Yes, Victoria is more of the devious type, but she might do some purring now and then to fool them all ;) I'm so glad you thought Watson's speech was emotional, that's what I was going for! I'm so surprised that I could write that without crying myself XD Thank you for all of your compliments! They really make my day! Yeah shit is getting serious, and it keeps on rolling from there. Goldylocks? What the hell? XD Of course, you're so adorbs and a fabu writer! Wifey and twinie forever :D

_Izzy: _Keep me I suppose ;) Best chappie yet? I'll take that as a compliment coming from you. Thank you of course!

_Cliffie: _I love your name haha! Yes, cliffhangers are for sure the best to read and write! It keeps people interested XD Victoria is my favorite too! Twins! Haha I'm just kidding… You think it's Simza? That's a good guess! Keep on reading and find out! A new character? Well you'll see.

_Leiah7: _Awwwww thanks! :D You're so sweet! Yeah some people left because of the prologue but I wanted to continue so bad so I did! I'm so happy you gave it a go! Victoria is so surprising and you'll see another side of her in this chappie as well. Irene not dead? Well you'll have to keep reading and see ;) Sherlock should have no problems whatsoever XD Yeah exactly, thank you! Mary was never one of my favorites so I was like eh what the hell? XD But Watson will miss her, even though he's holding himself together as best as he can. It is important to the story however. Thank you again!

_WriterMonkey0626: _It's good to be confused! XD Just kidding but as long as you keep reading, you should be fine! The woman in blue is TBD ;) You'll see in the future! And the shadow man or new character or whoever you want to call him won't be discovered for a while, but you will be surprised. That I can guarantee :) Thanks again!

_A Pirate By Any Other Name: _Let's try and keep this one short shall we? XD Maddening? Good, that's what I was going for I suppose. I didn't want to give away too much but I did keep to the flow. And that's exactly how I planned it! To the soundtrack! XD It's so good… Well find out you did ;) My suspense is just awesome, admit it XD Watson's so smart, he'll figure it out sooner or later. Watson misses Sherlock so much, he just doesn't know what to do with himself. Lion King FTW! XD You knew it eh? Good prediction my friend! Dread? Couldn't be ;) Of course I have to throw some dread in there! Yeah Watson is going through so much grief… It's quite depressing and downright cruel of me. Ah well, I'm over it XD Thanks darling for all of the compliments! HOLD THE PHONE? Haha I love it. Don't bow to me, I'm just doing my job ;) Just kidding… Who is it indeed? Keep reading and you shall soon know, well not in this chapter but soon I tell you! XD Really? Mary isn't my favorite so I'm over it myself, but it's important to the story I promise. Watson's holding himself together quite nicely as a matter of fact, I'm a little surprised myself. His investigation will be in depth and complicated, that much I can guarantee. Well keep on reading my darling and let Easter come soon! XD

_Chief: _Welcome ;) Irene? Simza? Those seem to be the two most common guesses. You're quite the predictor and I can never keep a straight face. Where's the blanket? XD Oh I will! :D

**Recommendations:**

Nothing But a Trophy Wife - x-The Devil's Advocate-x  
>*A Harry Potter novel.* After the Dark Lord vanquished, not all was well. The Death Eaters were being rounded up and tortured unfairly, even when they were being forced to serve the Dark Lord, not by willpower. When Lucius and Narcissa find themselves imprisoned, Narcissa is forced to reflect on her past and save herself, her husband and her family… if she can.<p>

Clash of Steel - CPO Backstreet  
>*An X-Men novel.* Takes place after The Last Stand. The X-Men find their latest peace shattered by a government project, a group of mutant criminals and a military officer with a hatred for all mutants. In the midst of it all, Storm finds a way to bring Xavier back to life, leaving behind a legacy of her own. Wolverine discovers a secret that he would rather be left hidden, Rogue finds a cure for a cure, and old friends return. Can the X-Men find out what's happening to them before it's too late?<p>

**Sherlock Sightings:**

Zenna's Sightings  
>*My background on my phone is a picture of RDJ ;D<br>*My background on my iPod is "Keep Calm Dear Watson, You Know My Methods"  
>*I was watching the deleted scenes of Irenlock on YouTube XD<br>*I bought Sherlock Holmes stickers from Party City!  
>*My mom thought Sherlock Holmes was a superhero when clearly I was talking about Iron Man<br>*On Twitter, someone posted the new saying to say is No Shit Sherlock XD  
>*I was watching The Shaggy Dog the other day on Hallmark channel and RDJ is in it! Yeah evil scientists FTW :D<p>

Sox's Sightings  
>*Me playing Irene in my school's musical of Sherlock Holmes<p>

**My Playlist: **Frankenstein's Monster - Henry Jackman (X-Men: First Class), Drive By - Train, Lost Signal - Steve Jablonsky (Transformers: Dark of the Moon), Turning Tables - Gwyneth Paltrow (I'm obsessed with her XD), The Rocky Road to Dublin - The High Kings (how appropriate)

**Disclaimer: **No matter how many wishes I waste on 11:11, I still do not own Sherlock Holmes D: It's so depressing, the things I would do XD

Please read and review! I love you all!

~ Zenna

* * *

><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**It's About Time**

_I may say I wanted this to end, but in my heart I know it never will. The power, the willingness and the adrenaline is just too much, I could never give this up._

On his way home, all Watson could think about was how stupid he was. He had a clear lead on the mystery person at the church and he lost her, if it even was a her. He was assuming so because in his heart, he knew it was Victoria. All signs pointed to her so there would be no reason why it wouldn't be. He sighed to himself and brushed the snow off of his jacket, quickly approaching his street. The weather in London was pretty unpredictable these days, it was quite bothersome to a person like Watson who wanted a regular schedule. He brought out his keys to his front door and placed them in the keyhole, turning the knob to the right, but nothing happened. He frowned and pushed open the door, creaking open all by itself. Did he forget to lock it when he left to go to the church? That must be it. He stepped inside and shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the coat rack beside the front door. He wasn't used to living alone just yet; before Mary, he had Sherlock and now they were both dead and gone. He sighed again, rolling his shoulders backwards before stepping into the main sitting area. He picked up the newspaper and sat on his favorite plush sofa, attempting to read the daily news. But he never got that far.

Something plopped out of the newspaper and fell into his lap. It was something pink and brightly colored, he picked up the said object in question and frowned. This was unusual, did the postman accidentally put someone's mail in here? But as he examined the object which was indeed an envelope, he noticed in big block lettering on the front was written "DR. JOHN WATSON" with no address. Suddenly, it dawned on him. Someone had deliberately placed this in his house, someone had been here. His heart pounded in his chest and he looked from side to side wildly. He wasn't used to this yet, he wasn't sure if he could handle this much stress. He breathed in and out unevenly and leapt to his feet, ripping open the envelope. What he saw wasn't surprising. It was a pink letter that matched the envelope and was written in big capital block letters. This person was smart, they wanted to stay anonymous and yet they left billions of clues for Watson to figure out. This person wanted to be found, so why did they bother with the lettering? He twisted his mouth, reading the letter so obviously written to him.

"I WARNED YOU DIDN'T I?" Watson read out loud, his feelings slowly starting to turn to dread. "IF YOU WANT TO SAVE THE LIVES OF COUNTLESS OTHERS, YOU MUST DO EXACTLY WHAT I SAY."

Watson paused for a moment, wondering why the person who wrote this would go through all of this trouble to stay anonymous when the doctor obviously knew who wrote it. Probably to stay ominous… As he stared at the note and re-read it, he pondered some more. What if Victoria didn't write this? What if she wasn't behind all of this? What if Mary was murdered by someone else? Suddenly, everyone seemed like a suspect. The more he thought about it, the more he needed information. He stopped his train of thought again and forced his mind to slow down. So the person threatening him said that Watson must do whatever they say but there wasn't any more information.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, mumbling to himself. "I would consider doing it but you didn't finish!"

He grumbled and flung the letter across the room in desperation and anger. It fluttered in the air for a moment before slowly settling down to the carpeted flooring back side up. Watson bent to pick it up, he never liked littering, and froze.

For on the back of the paper, there was a drawing of Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

><p>"I would think before accusing me of something I didn't do," Victoria snapped to her two so-called minions. "That wasn't me."<p>

The stranger in the doorway and Moran stared at her a moment longer with gaping mouths before they composed themselves quickly.

"Well then," the stranger coolly responded. "I apologize but you must admit that the woman did resemble you and had the same moves as you."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, "Really?" She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. She didn't like where this was going. "How so?" she added after a moment's thought.

Moran spoke up for the first time since Victoria told them the truth, "Well you see, they had a dagger stored in the same spot as you, they dressed like you, they spoke like you, hell they even had the dark hair like you."

Victoria narrowed her eyes, she didn't like what was happening here at all. "So I've got an impersonator now?" she sneered. "Well if you excuse me, I'll take care of that."

She swiftly picked up her gun and dagger and pocketed them in her usual spots before pushing past the stranger and heading out the door.

"Wait!" Moran called from behind her, causing her to spin around and glare at him. "Where are you going?"

"To take care of this little problem of the lady in the navy blue dress," replied Victoria before turning on her heels and marched downstairs and out the door.

As she stalked into the heart of London with her black cloak pulled tightly over her head, she had to smile. So she had an impersonator? That meant she was famous enough to get one! People obviously feared her and they were sending copycats to do her "work." But if it wasn't really her, she was interested to know who exactly this woman thought she was. She fingered the handle of her gun in her dress pocket and thought about what she was going to say when she found this woman. She was going to take care of business for sure.

She entered the main streets of her city and kept her head down. Normally, she would take this opportunity to wreak more havoc and strike more fear into people's hearts, bringing them down another level but today was different. Today she was on a mission that she wouldn't return home without. She wasn't going to fail this time, she would not accept defeat. She glanced from side to side, wondering where in the world she was going to find this woman. There had to be hundreds, if not more, people here. This could take a while but she was prepared to wait and hunt her prey. She paused for a moment, scanning the busy street, and her hopes flared when she caught a flash of blue in her peripheral vision. She spun around, keeping her head low, and spotted a woman in a blue dress heading in the opposite direction.

"Gotcha," she whispered and began her stalking.

The woman headed eastward away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets, Victoria following in shadow. She couldn't believe how lucky she had gotten! It was almost as if the woman was waiting for her… She trailed off in thought, the idea stopping her dead. Frozen, she forced herself to calm down. She couldn't think along those lines, she knew everything, she was in charge. She resumed her pursuing right as the woman glanced over her shoulder. Victoria ducked into a nearby alleyway and took a deep breath, counting to ten before she poked her head out and saw the woman was heading in the same direction. She followed her once again and this time, when the woman spun around suspiciously, Victoria turned around and pretended to be talking to a nearby hobo on the street. The woman picked up speed and didn't look back for a long time. Finally, when Victoria and the woman reached a less crowded street, Victoria slowly reached her target. This was it, she kept telling herself, this is the moment.

She touched the woman on the shoulder gently to get her attention, but not enough to frighten her. But apparently the woman had another plans. She spun around, twisting Victoria's arm backwards, leaving pain shooting through her shoulder. She gasped for a moment, being forced down on her knees, letting the woman she was pursuing believe she had won. Then, without warning, Victoria swung her left leg out, connecting with the woman's ankles and knocked her on her back. Victoria straightened up and clapped her hands together to get the dust off. She stared at the woman on the ground and smirked. As she moved to step away, the woman grabbed her ankle and Victoria looked down scornfully. She opened her mouth to say something but then the woman hit her Achilles tendon and sent Victoria collapsing on her knees. Victoria groaned and turned to see the woman getting to her feet; she herself sprang upwards and sent her fist colliding with the woman's shoulder. The woman staggered backwards before wrenching her arm around Victoria's neck and choked her. As Victoria struggled to breathe, thinking that the woman was a good opponent, she thrust her knee upwards, hitting the woman's gut. The woman released her grip and Victoria turned her neck from side to side to make sure she was alright. She kicked the woman's shins, sending her on the ground again. She smirked once more before the woman grabbed her ankle again and Victoria made a move to escape, not wanting a repeat of last time. The woman only gripped harder and Victoria looked down where the woman was still shielding her face from view, not wanting to be seen.

"Really?" Victoria sneered, raising an eyebrow mockingly. "You honestly thought you could stop me by doing this again? It's kind of getting old."

The woman said nothing and Victoria stood there for a moment longer before she felt an intense pain searing through her ankle. She looked down to see the woman with an old fashioned unique dagger attacking her ankle, leaving a cut that was dripping with blood. Victoria leapt backwards in surprise and noticed that she was now sporting a long, thin cut along her ankle. She wondered why the woman didn't make it deeper, she certainly had the power to, why didn't she want to hurt Victoria more? She could have, she had the chance and yet she didn't take it. Why? She hissed, dismissing the thought, and turned back to where the woman was now standing on her feet, her face still in shadow.

"What was that for?" Victoria spat. "I wasn't going to hurt you!" she lied.

"That was so you couldn't run after me," the woman stated quickly and simply, so Victoria couldn't recognize her voice, and tore off in the opposite direction.

Victoria cursed and limped after her attacker. While she did admire the way she quickly ran in heels, she couldn't help but hate her. She had to catch up to her somehow, even if it meant - No she couldn't pull that card right now, it was just too dangerous! She had to catch this woman!

* * *

><p>Watson reached the place he was attempting to find and stopped in front of the building. He admitted that it did take him a while to figure out what the anonymous writer wanted him to find, but now that he was here, he knew that this it. This was exactly what he was trying to discover! He looked up at the sign, reading it over and over until the words "Holmes Detective Business" burned in his mind. This foundation had been created by minor detectives in London ready to support Sherlock even after his death. They wanted to work under his name and memory until they themselves died. While they weren't quite as good as Sherlock, they did the job well. So now Watson was standing in front of the building, wondering what his next move would be. He pondered, looking in the window and around the building but to no avail. He was just about to head inside when he heard a rustling behind him. He turned and laid his eyes upon a man in a gray uniform exiting the building next door. It dawned on Watson that the building was the post office and this strange looking man must be the postman or mailman.<p>

As the mailman struggled out the door with an arm full of letters and envelopes, he glanced over to see Watson staring at him curiously. The mailman dropped his letters into the bag strapped around his waist and lifted one hand in greeting.

"Dr. John Watson?" the mailman spoke with a thick Russian accent.

Watson shielded his eyes from the setting sun, still annoyed with the weather. First, it was snowing, now it's sunny? What next? A monsoon? He peered at the man, curious to see who this man was and why he knew the doctor so well. "Yes?" he called back, not being able to see much.

"I believe that that is yours," the postman pointed to the side of the stairs descending from the post office.

Watson turned to look at where the mailman had gestured and was shocked to realize that there was a letter taped to the side of the stairs. As he approached a little closer, he noticed that it was another familiar looking sight. It was a pink envelope with "DR. JOHN WATSON" written in big block letters.

He spun around to thank and question the mailman, but as the doctor turned around, he was gone.

* * *

><p>Chasing after someone who could run like a cheetah in heels was hard enough, chasing after someone who could run that fast in heels with a bust ankle was like hell to Victoria. She wasn't going to give up and as long as she had the woman in her sights, she would be alright. The woman turned into a dark alleyway and Victoria entered after her a few seconds later.<p>

"Wait!" she called after the mysterious lady. "I just want to know why you're impersonating me!"

The woman stopped running and slowly turned around to face Victoria. She walked a few steps closer to Victoria, frowning. She commented, "I don't even know who you are. So why would I be trying to impersonate you if I don't even know you?"

Victoria sighed, her feelings turning from anger to confusion quickly. She felt defeated but her insides were flaring up. "How do you not know who I am? Have you been living under a rock?" she demanded.

The woman muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "If only you knew" but Victoria wasn't quite sure. She took another step closer, "Pardon? I didn't catch that," she said sweetly.

"I'm sorry," the woman spoke up now. "But I don't."

Victoria narrowed her eyes, not believing the woman for one instant. "Let's get the record straight," she sneered. "My name is Victoria Moriarty, got it?"

The woman faltered for a moment, not saying a word before she blurted out, "You're not related to Professor James Moriarty are you?"

Victoria's mind whirled as she answered calmly, "Why yes, he was my father."

"Was?" asked the woman curiously.

Victoria wondered where this woman had been where she wouldn't know anything and news would have escaped her. She bit her lip as she replied, "Yes he died about a year ago when Sherlock Holmes killed him."

"Sherlock Holmes," the woman's voice remained steady and unwavering but Victoria could tell that something was bubbling under the woman's skin. "Now that's a name I've heard before."

"Naturally," Victoria spat, rolling her eyes.

"Do you know where I could find Mr. Holmes?"

Victoria peered at the woman, who was she and why was she so clueless? "526 Baker Street, it's the old church, the same one that Mrs. Watson's funeral was in," she said.

The woman took a step back, "Why would he be in there?"

"Because he's dead!" exclaimed Victoria, exasperated. "Honestly, who are you and where have you been for the past year?"

"What?" the woman's voice cracked and squeaked an octave. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person? Sherlock Holmes, of 221B Baker Street?"

"That's the one," Victoria responded quickly. "He killed my father by sacrificing himself as he threw the two of them over a large waterfall up north."

The woman didn't say a word, Victoria saw her chest rise and fall rapidly however and she knew she struck a nerve.

Victoria swept onwards, not caring what the woman's response would be, "Well whoever you are, you better not show your face around here anymore. Wherever you came from, go back. You're not wanted here. You better fade into the distance where the memory of you will only be in passing moments, unlike me. Otherwise, you will regret it."

"I don't think I can do that," the woman added quickly. "I'm not that type of person who just runs away in the face of danger. You'll see that there's more than one female criminal in these towns."

"And just why won't you run?"

"I've been around longer than you have," the woman smirked, her red lips the only thing that Victoria could see on her face. "And I know things that you have no clue of, trust me, the world needs me around."

"Your point being?" Victoria purred. "I'm the feared one around here now, no matter who you were or what you did."

"Not for long," the woman said calmly, her lips breaking out into a twisted smile.

"And you honestly think you could challenge me and win?" Victoria questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well Ms. Moriarty, let the games begin."

* * *

><p>Returning home was one of the most difficult things Watson forced himself to do. He hadn't opened the envelope yet although he was dying to do so. Why had someone threatened him and then led him on a wild goose chase just to give him another letter? It probably had the same message on it too! It was odd, strange or even unthinkable! Only one person alive would do this… Victoria. But what if she didn't? All of his thoughts from earlier flooded back into his mind and he forced himself to think straight. He couldn't let his mind wander from previous events, it was just too dangerous! What if this was all part of another game that Victoria wanted him to believe was his? He couldn't bear to think about that any longer. He slowly unlocked the door once again for what seemed to be the millionth time that day and opened it quickly. His hands were shaking as he stared at the envelope in his palm. The doctor felt like he couldn't take it any longer and he strode into the kitchen, leaving his jacket on and everything. He sat down at the table, almost knocking over a chair in desperation, and opened the envelope.<p>

A knock on the front door jolted Watson from his ritual and he cursed under his breath.

"Damn you Lestrade!" he shouted, abandoning his letter on the table and heading towards the front door.

He knew that the inspector and his policemen still had to search his house and give clues but this was probably the worst possible time for them to show up. He grumbled to himself angrily, flinging open the door, ready to lash out at Lestrade.

"Do you mind?" he cried, clearly outraged. "I'm on the brink of-"

He broke off from his ranting, realizing that the person who was standing before him was not who he thought it was. Instead of the inspector and his army of policemen, it was a woman with long wild brown hair and deep dark eyes. Watson's mouth dropped open in shock, his heart beating quickly in his chest. This was someone he never thought he would see again.

"I need your help!" the woman exclaimed, feeling and sounding completely breathless as if she had ran all the way here.

The last time Watson had seen this person was at Sherlock's funeral and that was over a year ago. There had been no word or contact from her ever since, he thought she had dropped off the face of the Earth. He thought that they had developed a close relationship on their last mission, especially after their partner had died. After the ball, after her own brother had died in her arms, they had travelled back to London together with Mycroft and went to Sherlock's funeral solemnly. She had left as soon as it was over and he had never heard from her ever since. He thought he spotted her at Mary's funeral but he had himself convinced that it was all an illusion. But now…? He wasn't so sure anymore.

He didn't reply at first, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. Finally, he managed to spit out, "Sim?"

The woman ignored his spluttering and continued swiftly, "Dr. Watson, I have a case for you."

Watson stood there, his mouth agape and simply staring at the woman that had left him speechless. Dressed in her usual frocks, exactly how he remembered her, was Madame Simza.


	6. The Mystery Unfolds

_**Author's Note: **_I promise I haven't left! I would never leave! I have way too many exciting surprises in store for you guys and this story :D I'm really excited about it! So here I am like promised :D So sorry about the delay, I could list a billion things that were truthfully holding me back but I won't bore you anymore than necessary XD So when we left off last time, Simza returned! It seems all of you have some sort of idea of who the lady in blue is, I've got many different responses but I'm not saying a word except for… YOU FIND OUT WHO SHE IS NEXT CHAPTER! That's right, you heard me: the identity of the mysterious woman in navy blue will be revealed in the next chapter O_O crazy right? I figured it was time, the story is picking up and I'm quite excited naturally. Please read and review! :D I love you all!

**Reviews: **Dear God, I got a ton for this chapter! THANK YOU SO MUCH! :D Free cookies for all!

_WriterMonkey0626: _Yes it's Sim :D I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for the review!

_FutureNovelist887: _Yeah I'm pretty ominous, it's great ain't it? XD Just kidding of course… Maybe not… I guess you'll never know mwahhahahaha!

_FutureNovelist887 2: _Yeah I'm great at cliffies aren't I? They're a ton of fun to write but a pain and annoyance to read I apologize. Sorry for the really long update, it's totally my fault and I feel awful. The future is a lovely place my friend.

_Scarlett's Fics: _Wow, that review touched my heart and I'm like not even kidding. I'm liking your deductions, you could be the next Sherlock Holmes XD I'm so glad that a) you're enjoying the story and b) you love how I write! That means so much to me, you have no idea… Yeah like I was telling FutureNovelist887, I love writing cliffies but I know they're awful to read so I'm sorry about that… Doesn't mean that I will stop! XD Yes, your deductions may or may not be correct ;) Irene, Sherlock or Sim? Hmmmm… They are really good deductions how about that? You may elaborate on one after this chapter XD Thanks again!

_Lovely Little Knives: _Wow, another amazing review :) I am so blessed to have amazing reviewers like you guys out there! ZOMG YOU CHANGED YOUR NAME! I WAS REALLY CONFUSED FOR A FEW MINUTES THERE O_O you really have to warn me on those things… The author's notes astounded you now? Jesus, I must be good then ;D Mary being the woman would be an awesome twist, let's put it that way ;D Trust me, you're never stupid! Really? :D you were surprised to see me? Ol' Sim? XD Yeah actually you did, I wanna see it! Send me a video? Please? I love you!

_Leiah7: _I'm so glad that you didn't see ol' Sim coming XD Yeah between Sim, Mary, and Victoria, Watson just might have a heart attack XD just kidding of course… And yeah I saw them at my friend's house! It was amazing! Thanks for your review!

_Lauren: _Always happy to have new readers! :D I'm so glad that you enjoyed the story and please keep on reading! :D

_A Pirate by Any Other Name: _Yep that's me! XD Hoping always is good of course, it may or may not be true! XD Next chapter I promise! I love Simza too, she reminds me of myself in a weird and twisted way. Thank you for your wonderful review like always, you're amazing! :D I've missed you too!

_Izzy: _You're telling me! I'm actually doing pretty good lol. Thanks again buddy!

_Irenelock Forever: _I know how badly you want her to be Irene but just keeping wishing buddy! :D Thanks for your review!

**Playlist:**

Lucky - Glee Cast, Teenage Dream - Katy Perry, Castle of Glass - Linkin Park, Scorponok - Steve Jablonsky (Transformers)

**Disclaimer: **Yeah you hear it everytime and I hate saying it but Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me. I wish it did, I'm pretty sure I had a dream that I owned my very own Holmes and Watson, not even kidding… I'm a weird child ;) The plotline and Victoria Moriarty belong to me! XD

Enjoy like always,

Zenna :D

* * *

><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**The Mystery Unfolds**

_I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where we have been. We're lucky to be coming home again. I'm lucky I'm in love in every way, lucky to have stayed where we have stayed. We're lucky to be coming home someday. _

No one could predict the future. It's a known fact, it's been proved. The future can be guessed upon or forecasted but no one could possibly know every single detail of what was coming next. It's simply not possible! The joyous occasions, the heart breaking moments, the downright crushing scenarios are all a part of life and everyone must learn to accept them. But despite all of that, shock and fear seem to be the best words to describe the future. People are shocked at what their future must hold while others seem fearful of what it may contain. As much as we don't like to admit it, it's true; everyone has been or is skeptical, fearful or shocked at their future. The future is a marvelous thing and to mess it up would be purely disastrous.

Watson was one example of said facts. When he flung open the door to the bustling Baker Street, he expected to see a usual face like Lestrade and was all set to lash out at him. However, the doctor himself was downright shocked to see who was really standing there. It was the last person he would have expected, it was Madame Simza.

The past couple of hours had just been a blur for the kind doctor. Somehow, Simza had convinced him to take a walk with her to discuss the reasons behind her visit which Watson knew were not simply friendly. He was a little distraught at the moment however as their walk slowly turned into a familiar walkway that Watson knew well. He didn't say a word but his emotions perked at the point of curiosity. Frowning, he turned to the gypsy who hadn't said a word yet since they began their walk throughout town. He opened his mouth to say something; after all, he had been the speechless one at his own house when he was first approached by Simza there. But before he could spit anything out, the gypsy herself cut him off, not realizing that he had been about to speak.

"I'm so glad I found you," she murmured. "For a moment, I was worried that I would never see you again."

Watson nodded, agreeing with her statement. He had always wondered why she had left so quickly after Holmes's funeral and now seemed like a perfect time to question her motives. She was such a peculiar person and the doctor wished he knew her better. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave England so soon now and just maybe, she could even accompany the doctor in his times of grief.

"After Holmes's funeral," he managed to choke out, it was still hard talking about his best friend like that, dead, "You bolted. What happened to you?"

Simza swallowed before answering slowly, "I realized I wasn't needed. The mission was over."

Watson frowned again, he was sure to have wrinkles after this week of non-stop action. What exactly did she mean by that? She wasn't needed? What did that mean? He must have had an awful look on his face for the gypsy chuckled and further explained herself.

"You and Holmes were my only friends here in England, I have family back home, there was no reason to stay. You had Mary, your wife, and your friends around here while Holmes -" She broke off for a minute, shuffling her feet before continuing. "Anyway, I could tell that there was no reason for me to be here any longer than to pay my respects."

Watson stopped in his tracks and faced Simza, staring into her darkening brown eyes. "You're always needed around here, Sim," he stated seriously. "The town needs you, Holmes would have needed you and I -" He coughed, the situation suddenly becoming more awkward as he stopped himself from what he really wanted to say.

Simza broke his gaze and glanced down at the ground almost shamefully, "This is not my home. I don't belong here."

Watson resumed walking though Simza was still in the lead, he didn't know where she wanted to take him. "So why did you come back?" he questioned honestly.

"Like I said," she repeated herself from earlier. "I have a case for you."

Watson shivered, the snow from earlier still in place and quavering up a draft. He wasn't sure what she knew from her year being gone and he wasn't sure how much he wanted to tell her. This wasn't her home after all; she made herself perfectly clear on that one.

"You know I don't get involved like this anymore," he chose his words carefully this time. "After Holmes -" He still couldn't say that his partner was dead even after all this time. "I was never meant to do this sort of thing anyhow."

This time, Simza halted in her spot and grabbed Watson's shoulders forcefully. She stared up at him and he felt a jolt of connection pass between them. "Doctor Watson," she said. "Listen to me." They both froze for a moment, making sure that the silence was necessary. "No matter what anyone else says," she continued just as strongly. "I know you and I know what you're capable of. I trust you before I trust anyone else in this town, dead or alive."

Watson opened his mouth to speak but the gypsy cut him off once more, "Yes even before Holmes."

"Why?" the doctor managed to blurt out, just as curious as she was. He wasn't exactly the perfect model for anything, why Simza would trust him this much confused him. He wasn't a great detective, he was a lousy husband and now he was all alone. He couldn't let this opportunity pass him by.

"After all we went through together, I know things," Simza explained cautiously. "I am a gypsy remember?"

Watson gave a small smile and chuckled, "So what's the case?"

"I knew you couldn't refuse," smirked Simza as she yanked on the doctor's coat and dragged him to a stop in front of the London Cemetery.

"Why are we here?" asked Watson, feeling a bit apprehensive. He hadn't really had too many fond memories in this place and the times he was here before weren't exactly pleasant trips. Most of them involving Holmes and his schemes…

Simza didn't quite answer his question; she shrugged and responded with a casual, "I think this one might interest you," before heading inside, not looking back to see if he was following or not. Of course, he did; how could he not after that?

As Watson jogged to catch up to the gypsy, she smiled at his approach. Both of them didn't say a word but they both knew that the feeling of friendship was nice to have once again. "It's probably better if I just show you," she commented before pulling him once more to an empty lot in the local cemetery. They faced a solid black casket with the lid open and Simza narrowed her eyes as she examined it. It seemed to the doctor that she had been here once before from the looks of things. He glanced at his companion and raised a questioning eyebrow. The most peculiar thing about this casket however was that there was no body inside.

"An empty casket?" Watson asked. "What's that have to do with anything? Whose is it, or whose was it supposed to be for? Was the body stolen or just missing?"

Simza held up her hands in the surrender position and stifled a chuckle of laughter. "Calm down Doctor before you send yourself into cardiac arrest," she said with a smirk. "I'll answer any questions you may have _after_ I tell my story got it?" She took his silence as a way to begin and she did. "I was back home in France when my cousin who currently resides in London approached our camp saying that he needed to speak with me urgently. I was surprised to see him yes, but mostly I was concerned with his tone of voice. He told me about the murder of your wife and he knew of our friendship from the stories I shared about our adventure together. And here I am in London, looking for you."

Watson gritted his teeth together, "Yes, news travels fast doesn't it?" It wasn't even a question, it was more of a forced statement and anyone could see how much this man must be grieving.

"I am so sorry John," she said softly, taking Watson's hand. "Truly I am." Watson looked down startled by the gypsy's kind gesture. She had never called him by his first name before and he froze in place, not really knowing what to say.

Simza took a deep breath to catch some air before continuing, "After my train ride here, I was walking past the cemetery to get to your house, after I asked the local patient in your hospital where it was of course. There, I overheard some of your policemen - oh I don't know what you call them -"

Watson interrupted her, "Lestrade."

"Yes, your Lestrades then?"

Watson chortled quietly for a second, not being able to help himself. He had mentioned the inspector's name only to himself, he really hadn't meant to confuse the gypsy. "No sorry," he corrected quickly. "The head policeman's name is Lestrade, my apologies."

Simza didn't look affected by anything he said, just gave the doctor a small smile. "Sorry," she spoke. "Anyway, they were talking about the missing body and I was instantly attracted to the conversation. After my adventure with you and Holmes, any sort of a mystery gets me excited; it seems I was never cut out for a normal relaxing life."

"I don't think any of us were," put in Watson, earning a chuckle from both of them.

"When I found out who the missing body was, I knew I had to tell you," Simza finished, producing another frown from the doctor.

"So who is it?" questioned Watson.

Simza threw down the lid of the casket to show the doctor and Watson's mouth dropped open in surprise, this was not what he was expecting. The top of the casket was still shiny with a few fingerprints from the policeman and inspectors but the gold engravings were still clearly visible and there was no mistaking whom the coffin belonged to.

"My God," Watson spit out, taking a step backwards in shock.

Written on the top of the casket was "In Loving Memory of Irene Adler."

"The police may think someone has stolen her body but with some thinking and sleuthing of my own, I don't think there was ever a body to begin with," Simza reported. Watson barely heard her however, he was still processing what had just happened in his mind. Was Irene… alive?

Simza was still talking nonetheless, "The funeral is set for Sunday right? So that's why the casket isn't buried yet correct?"

Watson could barely nod in response.

"So someone happened to open the casket and realize the missing body," Simza persisted. "However, there's no footprints in the surrounding sand and dirt leading away from the graveyard and the casket itself shows no fingerprints on the edges that I can see, signaling that it was barely touched."

Watson peered at the gypsy as if seeing her with new eyes. She paused before sweeping on, "She's alive Doctor Watson and you know what that means."

She's alive.

She's alive.

Irene's alive.

Irene Adler's alive.

The words kept repeating themselves in Watson's brain before he finally grasped the subject. He gasped and stumbled backwards as the words themselves impacted him with a bang. "You're a better detective than I would have imagined," Watson breathed heavily, clutching his chest.

"I've learned from the best," Simza grinned, nudging the doctor in the side.

"Irene's alive then," Watson repeated, "and she's been hiding out this whole time, God knows where. So she probably doesn't know about -" He broke off, his mind racing and then he swore, "Damn."

"What?" Simza questioned, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought of another mystery. "This should be good news! All we have to do is find her, she's alive after all."

"Sim, Holmes was in love with her and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual."

"So she doesn't know then?" Simza began to understand the doctor's frantic panic attacks. "About the Falls? About anything since her supposed death?"

The doctor shook his head, "No, she would have escaped the country to hide out until it was safe to return. She must have supposed a year would have been long enough." He hesitated for an instant before carrying forth, "I'm not sure I want to be the one to tell her what she's missed."

Simza saw the hurt flashing in his eyes and touched his arm comfortingly, "Better us than someone else though." Watson wasn't sure if the gypsy knew about Victoria but he wasn't going to bring it up now, she was the first one who flitted into his thoughts and he had a sudden urge. Leaping to his feet, he realized how desperate he was to find Irene and let her know before Victoria did. Thinking of the villain got his brain delusional, or so he convinced himself. A flash of black caught the corner of his eye and he whipped his head around to stare at the surrounding gravestones and bare trees. There was nothing there but he could have sworn he saw - He shook his head, it couldn't have been her, could it?

"What was that?" he spoke aloud in case Simza saw the same thing.

Simza scrutinized his looks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he responded with a sigh. "I just thought I saw - never mind."

As the doctor trailed off and headed out of the graveyard with his new companion, defeat was not something he should have accepted so fast. After all, if he had looked a bit further, he might have seen that his flash of black was not his mind playing tricks on him… it was in fact a flash of black hair. If only Watson had realized what it meant in time, he could have saved the world from another bout of depression.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Well on that ominous note… Lol sorry about that, it's short and it's crappy I know but I had to write something and at the time I was writing it, it honestly sounded good. Honestly, I promise it did… Re-reading it however, I was like eh not so much. But whatever, please bear with me and I promise to update soon! Let me know what you thought in a review :D


	7. As Long As You're Mine

_**Author's Note: **_Hello everyone! I'm terribly sorry about the long wait but I was extremely busy and I tried my absolute best to update as quick as I can. So I hope that this makes up for it! Oh yeah, remember last chapter how I said that the mysterious blue-dressed woman would be revealed this chapter? WELL SHE DOES. How exciting is that? I'm excited and I already know who she is! :D So please don't forget to read and review! And a special thank you to my amazing beta **Vanya Caladwen** who takes the time to read over my chapters :D

**Reviews:**

_Future: _Wow! That's a lot of compliments! Thank you so much :D I really appreciate it so thank you so very much for your review. I wish that would happen, me entering the script in to be used for Sherlock Holmes 3, that would be amazing (: You're such an amazing reviewer and reader!

_Izzy: _I think it's fixed now ;) I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter as well.

_Irenelock Forever: _Yes Irene's alive! Don't you love it? I knew you would XD thanks for your review darling!

_A Pirate by Any Other Name: _Yeah, I torment you :) and I love it ;) all will be revealed (hopefully) in the end but until then, confusion strikes around every corner XD mwahahahah! I love you darling! Yes, Sim and Irene are both back! I love them both so much and I'm glad you think so too! A Watson/Simza relationship? I'm not sure yet. The doctor won't be moving on for quite some time, don't worry but there may be hints of a relationship in the future. I won't give away too much for my evil *coughs* what - plans XD yes I simply cannot handle myself, cliffies are my thing ;)

_akatsukigurl93_: Thank you for the review! I'm always happy to have new readers :D I'm so glad that you enjoyed it!

**Playlist: **Count Me Out - Pusherjones, A Promise - Alan Silvestri (The Avengers), Rise - Hans Zimmer (The Dark Knight Rises), Whistle - Flo Rida

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sherlock Holmes or anything that I may have mentioned in this story. I wish I did, I do, but sadly I don't. Victoria Moriarty is mine though :)

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><p><strong>Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn<strong>

**As Long As You're Mine**

Sometimes you think you have something all figured out but then suddenly everything is tossed around and mixed up until you don't know which way is up or down. It's complicated but almost everyone has experience said emotions before, some more than others. Sometimes you think you know exactly what's going on but you really don't even know the half of it. Knowledge is a dangerous thing, something you don't exactly want to get mixed up in. Sometimes it's better staying in the dark.

A black cloaked figure made its way down the main streets of London, its shoes clicking on the cobblestoned streets rather loudly. The figure turned to the right after a few minutes and headed down another alleyway into the darkness. The person looked over both shoulders to make sure that it wasn't followed before melting into the blackness of the deserted road. The figure slowly lowered the hood of the cloak and shook out its long black hair. The person cracked its neck from side to side before standing deathly still in the darkness.

No matter what anyone else said, Victoria Moriarty was always ready for the next kill.

She paused in the alleyway for a moment, watching the bustling streets just outside the darkness she was consumed in and waiting for just the right minute. A hand clamped on her shoulder and she spun around angrily, ready to lash out at whoever was disturbing her. When she saw who it was however, she let out the breath she had been collecting inside of her.

"Moran you moron!" she exclaimed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I followed you," he replied slowly. "I had to talk to you."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and cracked her neck once again by rolling it in a tight circle. She looked from side to side before reluctantly leaving her post. She pushed the sharpshooter deeper into the alleyway and shoved him into a wall.

"What is it?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "And make it quick."

"I was talking with You Know Who today and he let it slip a piece of information that he had been withholding from us," Moran continued.

Victoria didn't change her facial expression; something was up with her two most trusted spies and if they were withholding information from her, then there was a problem. She didn't respond either; she just simply waited for her oldest friend to continue.

The sharpshooter sighed, "Our dear friend Doctor Watson is back in the crime solving case."

"Damn," Victoria swore, shaking her head. "I thought killing his wife would dig him in a deeper pit of despair than when Holmes died. Why doesn't he just kill himself and do the world a favor?"

"My thoughts exactly."

Victoria slapped Moran across the cheek, "No one asked you idiot, I was talking to myself. If the doctor figures out our plan, we're screwed. We need to bring him down." Moran opened his mouth to say something but Victoria kept talking over him, "Who or what rescued him? Our notes didn't work?"

"He never read them," Moran said slowly. "The French gypsy interrupted and got him to take a case."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, "Gypsy?"

The assassin nodded vigorously and Victoria frowned. What gypsy was he talking about? She didn't want to outright ask what the hell he was talking about because that would make her look like a huge joke but she had to find out who this gypsy woman was. Interfering with her plans was definitely not good. Victoria would make damn sure that this gypsy would never see the light of day again if it were up to her.

She rolled her wrists around in a circle, "What's the name of said gypsy?"

"Madame Simza, don't you remember?" Moran questioned and Victoria's eyes grew to be slits. "Of course I remember," she snapped. "How could I not?" She would never admit this out loud but she would do some background checks on this Simza character and make sure that she didn't know anything she wasn't supposed to. Maybe she would even be a good recruit, another double agent so to speak. Victoria's mind whirled and she jolted herself back to the present.

"Is there anything else you need Moran?" she wondered out loud and her assassin partner shook his head. "Very well," she added and nodded his leave.

She took up her position again towards the front of the alleyway but not so close that she would be betrayed by the sunlight. She stayed towards the darkness but just enough to see the hurried streets of London outside. This was going to be perfect.

A clicking of heels snapped Victoria back to attention and she smirked. The plan was going to work, she convinced herself, it was going to work. Sure enough, not moments later, the lady in question of the moment stalked by the alleyway, not suspecting a thing. Victoria simpered and pressed herself against the wall as the woman in navy blue turned and quickly moved down the alleyway. This time, after their first meeting this morning, Victoria knew more than she did, and she would have the upper hand. As soon as the mysterious woman moved past her however, she stepped out from the shadows.

This time, she knew her identity.

"Well well well," Victoria said, earning the woman's attention at last. As the woman turned, the hood on her navy blue cloak tumbled off her head, releasing the red curls under it. The woman blinked and looked to hide, now that she had been spotted at last. "If it isn't the one and only Irene Adler."

Irene shook her head, composing herself so she didn't look as frightened or confused as she felt. She pursed her lips together and stared at Victoria like she was the one out of place.

Victoria laughed and added, "Although last I checked, you were dead."

"Yes," Irene said quickly. "Well not many people in this town stay dead for long right?" She flashed a brilliant smile in the black-haired woman's direction.

Victoria's smirk faded, "I guess not."

"Did you honestly think you could be the only feminist thief in England?" questioned Irene, turning the tables. Victoria almost snarled at her puny attempt to put the blame on her, she was going to be the only in charge today.

"Well that won't be necessary seeing as how I'm still in control," Victoria snapped, the tone in her voice losing all friendliness. If this woman was going to be difficult, then so would she. Playing the game was only fun if the odds were in her favor, she decided, and in her favor they were.

Irene laughed musically, hoping that whatever Victoria said would be false. That's what she assumed earlier when they met and she wasn't going to change her tune just because this woman knew her true identity now. It wasn't going to change a thing, she convinced herself. "Really? And how would that be?" the red-haired woman quizzed.

A shrill cackle bubbled out from Victoria's lips and she moved a step closer to Irene, hoping to scare her away from ever returning back here. Sadly, she didn't think that was going to happen and she knew it too. So she had to take extra cautions to the wind… "You see," she began slowly. "I'm responsible for all your actions. I'm the reason why you're still here."

Victoria took pride at the way Irene's face paled when she said that simple statement. She knew it wasn't innocent by all means but still, this was even better than the black-haired woman would have expected.

"I'm the reason why you're in this place right now," continued Victoria swiftly. "I'm the reason why you're still alive." At that note, she smirked and waited for the other woman's reaction. She wasn't quite sure what it would be but she knew, deep down, that she couldn't wait to find out what it was. It wasn't every day that someone just tells you that they saved you from the depths of hell.

"You?" asked Irene, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "It was you?"

Victoria just smirked, and that was all the answer that Irene needed. The answer was, of course, yes. "You're the one who sent me that note, saying that there was a plan for my murder? You're the one who warned me of your father's poison and gave me the antidote?"

Victoria sniffed, "I was, although I'm starting to regret it."

"But why?" Irene still wasn't grasping the situation. "Why would you possibly want to save my life? After your father wanted me dead?"

Victoria scoffed again and rolled her neck again in a circle, this blackmailing was getting exhausting. "Because now I have Sherlock Holmes in the palm of my hand," she said simply.

Irene's face paled even more, if that was still possible, and her eyes grew wide with dread. Victoria knew the final blow had yet to come but she was milking the moment, she wanted this dreadful woman to suffer.

"Yes," Victoria swept on. "I saved what he loved most. I saved what he would have given up anything for, besides the doctor of course. I saved what he cared for so deeply. My dear, I saved you."

Irene coughed out, "My God," and turned away from the evil woman for a moment. She needed time to collect her thoughts and work out exactly what was going on.

"Then he had to go and get himself killed, ruining my plan," Victoria sniveled. "No matter, he's not around to stop me, now is he?"

Irene took a step backwards, her head swiveling around to meet Victoria's once more. Their eyes locked and she knew that the other woman wasn't lying. She thought she would have been before but now this was the second time she said something around that nature. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she spit out, "No. No, it can't be." She paused for a moment before questioning, "He's… dead?"

"Oh no!" Victoria faked surprise and concern, holding a hand to her heart. "You didn't catch that earlier? My father and him battled in Switzerland about a year ago. They both knew that because of Holmes's shoulder injury, also courtesy of my father, that Moriarty would win. So Holmes sacrificed himself and pushed them both over a waterfall. Neither of them were ever found."

"You're lying, it can't be true," Irene protested. Victoria knew, however, that she was only kidding herself. They both knew that Holmes was gone and dead; they both knew that Victoria was right.

"Oh you think so?" Victoria raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You didn't catch my drift this morning? Why don't you take a gander inside the old church? Or better yet, pay a visit to your old friend Doctor Watson? I'm sure he'd be glad to see a friend in his times of grief. Losing both Holmes and his wife within a year of each other must be horrendous."

Irene's eyes narrowed as she glared at the other woman, "You didn't."

"Oh but I did."

"You are so low," she spat angrily, losing her temper finally. "Sometimes I think you might be even worse than your father."

Victoria smirked once more, "Well thank you, I wasn't expecting such a compliment from someone like you." Irene just glared in Victoria's direction as the black-haired woman continued, "Well, since Holmes is dead now and I have no further use of you, I should just kill you now."

She pulled out her gun and pointed it in Irene's direction. The red-haired woman paused for a moment, frozen in place, not really sure what to do. Victoria saw the hesitation in her eyes and slowly lowered her gun, tucking it back in her chest pocket.

"But I won't," she added as an afterthought. "It's way too much fun to see you grieve for the man you so obviously loved." With that said, she stalked off in the other direction, leaving Irene Adler in the dust, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	8. A Confirmation Found

Hi guys so sorry for the delay… I was listening to the soundtrack by the amazing Hans Zimmer and I instantly got inspiration. How was everyone's Christmas? What did y'all get? Any questions for me? Just leave it in a review and I'll be sure to answer them on the next chappie or through a PM. But back to the story… So when we left off, we found out that Irene's alive :3 and Sherly's still dead… Boo. Wouldn't it be horrible if he never came back? That would suck. Luckily, I'm not that type of person… Or am I mwahahaha? We'll see. But for now, keep on reading for more adventures of Watson and Simza! :D

Oh and I don't own Sherlock Holmes :( poop nuggets… ENJOY.

**Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn**

**A Confirmation Found**

There are times in life where you feel like everything is going downhill with absolutely nothing to look forward to whatsoever. There are moments when you are sunk so badly that you can't think, breathe or even contemplate what will happen next. There are those periods where nothing can make you happy, no matter what anyone says or does. There are occasions when you even feel like doing something drastic because you honestly feel that there is nothing left to live for.

There are those stretches where you cannot stand to be around a person one second longer because they annoy you to no end. There are intervals in time when you wish that you were a completely different person. There are those stages where you simply cannot forgive yourself for something that was not your fault in the past, even though you are convinced it was. There are even phases when you have people comforting you but you feel like nothing helps at all.

There are those instances where you feel like doing something to assist someone in need but there is nothing left. There are moments in the past when you wish you could reverse time and take back something that occurred, perhaps even stop something from happening yourself. There are points of your existence where you wish you were not living, believing to your fullest extent that you would be better off not around. There are even those minutes that tick by so slowly that you want time to either stop completely or speed up to the quickness that your brain is processing at.

But despite it all, there is always something.

Perhaps you just weren't looking hard enough…

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><p>"There is no way that-" a soft voice protested from the darkness, getting cut off, stopping the thought processes.<p>

A sturdier response came, approaching the soft lights lit upon the cobblestoned streets, casting shadows across the pathways. "Something is bound to occur sooner or later, Sim," the man said in hushed tones. "And we're going to figure it out."

The first voice, the woman, stood under the streetlamp which was illuminating the glow of her always frizzed hair and wild looking eyes. She wrapped her scarf around her neck tighter, hoping to keep warm this late at night. The day had passed by rather quickly, and nightfall had arrived sooner than either person would have assumed. Madame Simza shook her head rather violently as if she was forgetting something herself.

"I just do not understand what the problem is," she finally said, cocking her head to one side.

Doctor John Watson sighed, running a hand over his head. He wasn't frustrated with her, to say the least, just merely confused. He didn't have all of the facts either, which bothered him like crazy, but he knew some things that he wasn't about to let on. Some things were meant to stay a secret, at least for now.

"Something is indeed missing," Watson replied. "We haven't gotten all of the pieces yet. There is something that we haven't got our hands on. I can't quite put my finger on it." He paused and then added half-heartedly, "Physically and metaphorically."

Simza cracked a smile at his unusual joke before growing back to her normal serious tone. This was not a laughing matter. "We'll figure it out," assured Simza. "I have faith in you."

"That makes one of us."

Simza rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Doctor Watson, I knew you before Mister Holmes. I think you brighter and more intelligent. Honestly, I put my trust in you for good reason."

Watson sighed, continuing the short walk back to his own residence. He rubbed his temples, moving his hand from his head, and put in, "But you don't understand." Simza opened her mouth to interject with another response of "lies", but he didn't let her.

"This is a matter of life or death now," he said. "We can't not have all of the facts. We won't be able to succeed without them. We cannot afford mistakes now."

"You will," Simza whispered, stopping her own pace in front of the doctor's house. "I promise."

Watson stopped in his tracks as well, glancing upwards at the still lit lamp coming from the second floor of his home. He must have forgotten to shut that off. He sighed, frowning, and turned his focus back to the gypsy and the matter at hand. He had a plan, _they_ had a plan, and he was sticking to it no matter what his gut feeling said. That didn't matter anymore; he didn't have Holmes telling him otherwise, and he planned to keep it that way. He was more of a book guy anyway…

Simza smiled, repeating her words for what seemed like the tenth time today.

"I have faith in you."

Watson smirked, "That's great because I certainly don't. That's for sure."

A silence passed between the two friends; they didn't let the snow or any passing people on the streets stop them from allowing the quiet rest between them. It wasn't awkward or unwelcomed, it was needed. It was a necessity to the conversation.

"Talk to him," Simza said at last. "He'll understand, he'll help _you_ to understand."

Watson shook his head, "I'm not even sure that I want to understand." He mumbled that part under his breath, adding a bit louder, "These are dangerous zones we are about to embark upon. We must tread carefully."

Unfortunately for the doctor, Simza hadn't heard a word of what he had just said. She raised an eyebrow in his direction, and he merely just shook his head. "But what if he doesn't?" he rephrased a tad bit louder, raising his voice over the gusting wind.

"He will."

Perhaps they would have had better luck in the future if Watson had only stepped inside to realize that he had forgotten all about the capitalized anonymous letter. They probably would have saved a lot of time and grief… Oh well.

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><p>Watson paused in front of the upscale mansion in the middle of the countryside, right outside the city of London. He had only been here a few times before and yet each time, he felt the same emotion. It was a sense of panic and a feeling of being overwhelmed by too much too fast. It was complicated but it wasn't hard to understand. He never had this experience before, not with this added urgency, not like this. He sighed, rubbing his temples and hesitating one last time, before he lifted his hand and rapped on the wooden front door to Mycroft Holmes's house.<p>

There was a pause in which relief washed over the doctor. No one was home…. He wouldn't have to face the man that reminded him so much of his brother. But an added determination swept upon Watson, and he struck the door with his knuckles once more.

"No one's home!" came a shout from inside.

Watson rolled his eyes, smirking at the cluelessness of the elder Holmes. "I would greatly appreciate you letting me in," he commented, almost yelling through the wood.

The door swung open as Mycroft realized the identity of the man standing on his front doorstep. He wore a huge plastered grin on his face like he had been expecting the doctor for quite some time now, and he gave a curt nod when he met eyes with Watson. Watson gave a small smile back at the elder in return.

"Well why didn't you say it was you?" boomed Mycroft. "Please come in Doctor Watson."

Watson nodded once more, stepping foot into the Holmes mansion. He looked around the grand foyer, tapping the marble tiled floor with his cane in approval. There had only been one other time that the doctor had been here and it seemed like such a long time ago. Right after Holmes was killed, he had visited Mycroft to double check that Sherlock hadn't visited here. He had not. Watson sighed, pushing the memories aside for the moment. He couldn't dwell on the past now, he had other issues that he concerned himself with. This case, for one.

"I need to discuss something with you," Watson jumped right at the chance, following Mycroft into the main sitting area adjacent to the foyer. "But I'm afraid I can't stay long."

Mycroft raised a curious eyebrow, "Yes?"

"There's something I'm missing," began the doctor, pursing his lips. He wasn't exactly sure where to begin or how much Mycroft knew. But he planned to discover it all in the time that he was spending here, there was simply no time to waste.

Mycroft held up a pocket watch, engraved with the initials JW and dressed in solid silver. "Your old watch perhaps?" he questioned.

Watson snatched the watch from the larger hands, shaking his head in disapproval. How the hell - He didn't even want to know. "I've been looking for that!"

There was a pause in which Watson continued to wobble his head back and forth, pondering how Mycroft managed to get his hands on the watch. He couldn't remember the last time he had it? At work perhaps? But then how would the elder Holmes get it there? It didn't matter anyhow.

"It's about Irene."

Mycroft nodded slowly, accepting the change of subject. He seemed to know exactly why Watson was here anyhow. "Ah, so you've heard," he said in slight response.

"I might have," came Watson's noncommittal answer.

"And what do you think I have the power to do?"

Watson answered rather quickly, "Assist me in finding her."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, not sure where the doctor was going with this. He frowned, his forehead crinkling in a mixture of confusion and exhaustion. This was not where he wanted the conversation to veer, was it? "Doctor, I am appalled," he stated at last. "I thought you were not getting involved like this anymore."

Watson gave an involuntary flinch at just the thought of discussing Sherlock in this very house. Too many memories indeed… "Well," he managed to spit out. "I am afraid you are mistaken."

"Nevertheless," Mycroft put in. "You have no proof that she's alive." Watson opened his mouth to say something in apparent response, trying to clue him in on the clues that led him here, but Mycroft interrupted before the doctor could put a word in. "I know the clues, but that does not mean solid proof."

Watson shook his head, "Mycroft, look me in the eyes and tell me that she's dead."

Another bout of silence passed between the pair in which neither of them said a word. Mycroft didn't break eye contact with the disturbed doctor, but he didn't utter a word either. It was a predicament indeed. Watson settled back in his armchair after a minute or so of simply staring.

"I thought so."

Mycroft admitted defeat, although he still wasn't sure where the conversation was headed after this. He frowned, his head already throbbing from today's results and conversations. "Not many people in this town stay dead for long Doctor Watson," was his only statement on the matter.

Watson looked up from the ground, still wearing the frown on his face.

"And the ones that stay alive need to watch their backs," he added after a moment's thought.

"What are you saying?" questioned Watson, obviously confused by where the elder Holmes was trying to lead him in this conversation. Why couldn't anyone just come out and tell him where Irene was located? He didn't want to be trapped in yet another game. He resisted a sigh, already knowing the answer. Too dangerous, not enough fun; this is what they lived for.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, "I'm saying that you need to find her before someone else does."

This time, it was Watson's turn to be surprised. His eyebrows skyrocketed to the top of his forehead in apparent shock. He wasn't aware - but of course…. Victoria. Wasn't she behind everything nowadays? Just like her father… So typical.

And yet, Watson didn't reveal what he knew about Victoria. He wasn't sure how much Mycroft knew about her, and he didn't want to add more to the elder's plate. It was already getting too complicated involving him like this. His only hope was that the elder Holmes would live to see another day.

"You think someone is trying to kill her?" Watson asked, his frown growing deeper by the minute. "She doesn't know anything."

"And she never will if you don't find her."

Watson took the hint; he knew the meaning for sure, and he was fully planning to take full advantage of it. He drew in a deep breath, getting to his feet faster than the speed of light, and ran out the door of the mansion without another word. There was no goodbye, no thank you, but Watson had gotten what he needed. He had gotten a confirmation.


	9. A Knife in the Dark

**YO I'm back bitches. January is almost over yay! Sorry, I really hate this month… way too stressful to be legal. But the important part was that I still found time to update! I'm so happy that y'all are loving this so much :3 it really means a lot to me, hearing from all of you. Don't hesitate to review or PM me or anything! I don't bite! I'm an insane fangirl with writing problems :) we can be friends! ANYWAY. Enough about me. Time for a certain psychotic character of mine to tell her story.**

**I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Le poop. Victoria is mine however! :D and a special thanks to my wonderful beta, A Pirate by Any Other Name. LOVE YA.**

**Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn**

**A Knife in the Dark**

Thwack. Crrraccckkk. Swish. Thwack. Crrraccckk. Swish.

The actions repeated over and over again in her mind, plaguing her own thoughts until her brain ached and pulled at the very fabric of being and knowledge. It didn't make sense, and she, yet again, had the feeling that something was missing. There was something that she didn't take into account. She closed her eyes, wishing that it would magically pop into her head, making her work a lot easier in the future. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort happened.

She threw her dagger upon the wooden table once more, dragging it back towards her. The horrible sound of the wood ripping from its place sounded again, and she plucked it out with ease, repeating the same movements. To anyone else, the gestures and noises would have been excruciatingly painful, but to her, it was almost calming. It made her lose her train of thought and develop some mental images that weren't exactly pleasing… but to her, they were nothing but brilliant. Her memories were not a burden; they were a gift, a gift to see the future and further tactics to come. It wasn't over yet. It hadn't even begun.

_"Would you like to help me with something?" came a disconcerting voice, leaning over the smaller child. _

_The raven-haired little girl nodded up at the man tilting towards her, "Daddy, I would help you with anything." _

_The older gentleman, the little girl's father, smirked at the answer. He hated giving it to her, but she looked so innocent. Not for long, he would mold her into something of greatness and power, the time was ticking out. He had a plan for her, he always had a plan, but this time it was going to succeed. _

If only she realized her father's true potential before it was too late, she might have saved him… and Sherlock Holmes. But that was beside the point. How was she to know of her fate when she was merely a young child? Her father was never clear to her, and that was her only regret.

_Slightly older now, the raven-haired child sauntered through the streets of London, skipping in the cobblestoned streets. The sun was shining and the day had just begun, arising over the tops of the trees and shining through the cracks in between the houses. Unfortunately, the world around her along with being completely by herself blinded her from seeing where she was going. She tripped over a loose stone in the street and dropped her basket full of toys on the cold street. She frowned, biting back tears, and slowly began to pick her scattered belongings. _

_She didn't think anyone had noticed until an older, strange-looking gentleman bent down and began to help her. She frowned, tilting her head to one side. Why was he helping her? Slowly, wordlessly, the pair began to deposit the young girl's toys back into her basket. She stood up, opening her mouth to thank the man, but he had disappeared down the street already._

_Frowning, the raven-haired girl began to give chase to the direction of which she believed the man had gone. She spied him eventually, kneeling beside a bridge and playing with the glasses on his nose. The man bolted to his feet when he locked eyes with her, and she gave him a small smile._

_"I just wanted to thank you," the girl squeaked._

_The man just coughed, bobbing his head up and down once._

_But still, the dark-haired girl didn't leave. She wanted to make another friend, of course, like any young child usually does. "What's your name?" she persisted._

_"I'm nobody," came the only response before the man turned and walked away._

How would she know that in the future their paths would become intertwined like no others? It wasn't probable that they should ever meet again and yet they did. Once again, she continued to defy fate and write her own future. Just like the way it should be…

_A few years later and the raven-haired young girl had grown up to be something of a rebellious yet beautiful woman. Her father had been an influence upon her, reflecting every part of her in all of her actions and phrases. He was simply someone, something that she could finally trust in the midst of all of this chaos. She always wondered what happened to her mother, but every time she tried to bring the subject up, her father would change it again or walk away briskly like nothing had ever happened. There was something there that was missing. She needed the answers._

_There was always a prick of doubt in her mind that her father wasn't telling her everything, but she knew deep down that her father did everything because of her. And that was all that mattered… right?_

_She crept down the stairs into the kitchen, feeling a sudden bout of braveness to work up the courage to ask him again. She hadn't brought up the topic in a couple of years, so maybe things had changed. There was a slight chance that she was holding onto._

_"Papa?" she called out, heading into the kitchen of the old house._

_There was no response and she frowned, realizing her father must have gone out. She noticed an open book on the kitchen counter and she slowly sauntered over to it, her curiosity getting the best of her. She opened it, frowning, noticing the engraving on the front of it. The minute she cracked open the novel, however, she instantly regretted it. After that incident, she would never be able to look at her father the same again. _

_The book was hollow._

_And lying directly in a carved out spot within the book was a bloody knife. She quickly shut the cover of the book, shutting her eyes tightly and praying she didn't see whatever it was that was implied. But once more, she knew it was real and she couldn't take her eyes off of it. She peeked it open once more, her breath coming in shaky gasps as the sight of the knife reaffirmed her vision. It wasn't until then that she fully realized what her father was doing. He was killing people, for games, for fun. It was madness, and yet she wasn't exactly put off by the idea. Her father had already influenced her too much and now his thoughts were inside her head. It was madness indeed._

_She flung the cover open wide and bit the inside of her cheek as she read more into the mystery of her father's goings and comings. On the inside of the cover was written, "To my love James," and instantly she knew it was from her mother. So he did remember… She didn't have time to contemplate the secrecy any further, for her father himself burst into the back door of the old house. She slammed the cover of the book shut instantly and scurried away from the table._

_Her father narrowed his eyes, instantly suspecting something as he took in his daughter's terrified expression and the ajar book on the table. He hissed something under his breath, and the raven-haired girl took a step out of the corner in defiance. _

_"I trusted you," she whispered. "You lied to me. Why didn't you ever tell me?"_

The memory faded away into the darkness as the words repeated over and over in her head. _Why didn't you ever tell me?_ That was an understatement. Her father never told her anything and yet she repeatedly trusted him. What a mistake that had been… But nonetheless, she wouldn't be where she was today without him. But she couldn't know that for certain, after all; she might have even been better off. No one knew the truth anymore. The truth was overrated.

_As the years wore on, she still continued to work for her father. After the revelation, things had changed and things had become more… complicated. She was trapped now, with no way out. Even if she had a way out, she wasn't sure if she wanted it. It was… extreme to say the least._

_She wasn't sure why she stuck around; she had herself convinced that she would be better off on her own, especially now that she knew where to strike her father in the heart. She knew many things that she shouldn't have now, and she was absolutely going to use those to her advantage. Blackmail was the only thing going for her right now. _

_And betrayal was sweet._

_Her father deserved a little taste of his own medicine. At the time, she didn't know just how far it would have gone, but all she knew was that she was doing something against her father for once… and she loved it. She sat down in a cold empty room of a warehouse down the street with only a quill, ink and a piece of paper in her hand. She had to do this; she had to have something over her father. It was now or never._

_She dipped her quill in the ink and began to scrawl on the paper._

_"Please, before you throw away this message from a woman you haven't even heard of yet, take the time to read this. You won't regret it. You are in grave danger. Just listen to what I have to say, and I promise that I will save your life."_

_She paused in her writing, the letter half written already. She knew exactly why she was doing this, and now she could only hope that it would work. Oh yes, betrayal was very sweet indeed._

That letter had changed the course of her life as she knew it. Oh how she knew it. That was her first act of defiance against someone that ticked her off, and she hadn't gone back since. That was the reason she was here today, not because of her father but because of her own will. This was her choice now. And now, the first step of the plan had succeeded because of that letter. It was all coming together perfectly.

_There was a slight creak as the back door to the house opened slowly. She leapt to her feet, trusty dagger in hand, just itching to kill someone. She had been locked up in here for about two months now, and it was driving her absolutely mad. Her father had tried to protect her by keeping her here while he went off chasing the great Sherlock Holmes, another mind game for himself. It was ironic, however, that by trying to keep his daughter safe, he ended up getting himself killed. That was another reason she hadn't left. She didn't know any details, she didn't know anything except that he was murdered. And she was already vowing revenge._

_She held her dagger up in the air as the unknown person entered the house stealthily. The stranger flicked on the nearest lamp and instantly jumped backwards as he caught sight of her, holding her dagger above her head and ready to plunge it into his heart. The stranger scurried back towards the doorway and the woman tossed the dagger to one side, clutching a hand over her heart._

_"Sebastian!" she cried, sinking to the floor. "You scared the living hell out of me!"_

_Sebastian Moran took a deep breath of his own and sat on the floor next to her. He turned his head around and brushed her cheek. "Everything is going to be alright," he promised. "I'm here for you."_

_She shot to her feet like a rocket and bolted away from him, "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. I can do this on my own."_

_Moran laughed, "No you can't and you know it. You need his army, you need where he ended, you need your motives."_

_"I have them," she snapped, clearly torn between emotions. _

_The assassin folded his arms across his chest, getting up from his position on the floor. "And what exactly are you planning on doing?"_

_"Picking up where my father left off."_

Supposedly, that was the beginning of the so-called friendship between them. Sure, they had met before but Moran was nothing more than her father's sidekick of sorts. That was then, and this is now. Now, he had become so much more than that. She hated his guts, she wanted to punch him every day that she saw him, and yet she couldn't live without him. Fancy that.

_She knew she was screwed unless she built upon the foundation that her father had left behind. She had to find something else… someone else. She needed an extra boost to her already secure plans. Standing in front of the marketplace in her then unfamiliar black cloak, she waited for the right man to pass by. She had sent him a fake parcel about something that would intrigue him, a pocket watch of sorts perhaps. But now that she spotted him across the street, she knew it had to be him. Oh he was going to be perfect indeed._

_She crossed the carefully placed cobblestone path with caution, her heels clacking on the stones as she walked upon them. No one took notice as she passed, and she sauntered right up to the carriage before the stranger realized someone was there to see him. _

_"Greetings," he drew out slowly. "Where is this grand mysterious -"_

_He was cut off already by her, clearly impatient and in rush. "Listen to me, I know you. I need your help and I know why you'll help me."_

_The stranger frowned, "Who said I agreed?"_

_She held up the fake flyer with a face of disgust and scorn, "Did you honestly believe this?" He shook his head and she let out a little trill of laughter. "And you came anyway," she continued. "That is reason enough."_

_"But -" _

_He tried to get another word and failed, for she was most definitely on top of things right now. "How would a little revenge taste?" she chose her words carefully, and by the grin that broke out on his face, she knew she said them right._

_"Sweet."_

Another relationship of sorts was formed because of that simple incident. The stranger still continued to influence her life, however much she tried to hide it, and she still owed him unfortunately. But that was the least of her worries. She would deal with him another time, when more current memories weren't plaguing her for the time being.

_Touching the name on the pillar inside of the old church made everything seem so much more real than it actually was. She was returning to finally vow her revenge and stake her claim on this pitiful world. It was all within her reach, and yet there was just a nagging feeling that something was bound to go wrong. But she convinced herself to set it aside and keep thinking forward positively. She had to succeed this time, she wouldn't let herself drown. Not yet, not again._

The pillar did simplify and complicate things at the same time. It showed that there was hope for some, but not for most. And it certainly showed that some people can only cheat death so many times before it finally catches up with them. Perhaps it was a secret warning to her, but either way, she was prepared to do whatever was necessary. If that meant death, so be it.

_"Shame to lose something so fine," she threw a smirk in his direction before sauntering off in the other direction, feeling the glare on her back._

_Oh she was such an attention whore, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She was marvelous at what she did, and she wanted the whole world to see it and fear it. _

_Seeing the doctor for the first time sent a jolt of shock through her body, almost like she couldn't believe that her plans were becoming a reality. They were really going to work this time, she could feel it. She knew that this was her chance, this was her time. _

Ah the doctor. How so many paths led back down to his road. He seemed to be complicated enough within her plot without adding the complex details to his own personal life, which she seemed to destroy just like always. That was simply her nature, simply her way. But Watson was different, and she didn't like it one bit.

_Losing an argument was one of her ultimate worst things to do to become successful. One simply does not lose an argument, especially to one of your minions. So when the stranger and Moran were trying to show her up by telling her that she was wrong, she was not having any of it. _

_"That wasn't me," she finally blurted out, throwing her hands in the air._

_How dare they accuse her of doing something wrong! How dare they mock her like a child! They would all pay later. And she would never forget._

That was both frustrating and eye-opening at the same time, she supposed. She refused to lose to people like them, her pathetic minions. Perhaps it was the determination inside of her, or even some of her father's genes pooling about? Either way, it was not a good sign to be losing strength as a ruler. At the same time, however, she discovered the truth about her imposter and that led to many more surprising helpful details to her already complicated plot. And that was simply marvelous indeed.

_She supposed the mystery for her really began when she finally met the woman in navy blue face to face. She wasn't sure at first who exactly that meant, but she knew it had to be someone different. Someone she hadn't been expecting. And she wasn't wrong. It had turned out to be Irene Adler, the woman presumed to be dead for about a year and a half now. She had also been the very same person that she had been frantically trying to save, which had supposedly turned out in her favor. What had begun as a rebellion against her father's ways turned into something greater than she could have ever imagined. _

_"Last I checked, you were dead."_

That single letter changed both of their lives, and now Irene owed her. And that was perhaps the greatest thing of it all. Debt was such an overrated, complicated and simply wonderful thing. Blackmail was even greater. With that letter, with that debt, with that simple life she had saved, she was on top of her game once again and she loved it.

The quotes and thoughts kept repeating over and over again in her head until she finally got tired of it all. She ripped her dagger out of the table she was repeatedly throwing and sliding it into and hurled it across the room into the wall. It stuck there like a needle point and swung for a few seconds before staying completely still.

She heaved a deep breath in and out, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't let herself get worked up over this; she wouldn't allow herself to get worked up over this. It simply would not help her in the slightest, let alone distract her from her overall plan.

The door behind her banged open, hitting the adjacent wall, but the person didn't enter. She sighed, knowing exactly who it was. That part was obvious. She simply did not need this right now.

"Why are you here?" she hissed, holding her head up with her hands.

"You need to find her again."

She sighed, "I already told you, she's no threat. Not without Sherlock." She was obviously distressed, and the stranger could see that but this was simply too important to ignore.

She could almost hear the sound of his eyebrow raising. "Oh really?" the stranger questioned out loud, and she didn't have the heart to say otherwise.

"She's nothing," she said. "Don't worry about it. This is my case and I told you, I can handle it. I can take care of it myself."

The shadow in the doorway wasn't having any of it however hard she tried. "She'll find the doctor and the gypsy," he added. "And they'll solve your case."

She swiveled around in the chair that she was sitting in, narrowing her eyes instantly. She shook her head, "Since when do I take orders from you?"

"Since I know the inside scoop, remember Victoria?"

The black-haired woman froze, realizing exactly what he meant. She still wasn't happy, she was still in a terrible mood but something struck home inside of her. She had people that could help her… but she didn't need any help. It was always an ongoing inner battle with herself.

"And why are you telling me this?" Victoria asked, raising her own eyebrow in response.

"He's back."

She stuttered, "What?"

"You heard me."

She shook her head violently, refusing to believe whatever he was trying to sell her. _Why would he lie to you though?_ an inner voice asked, but she shoved that aside as well. It was too hard to give in now. "That's not possible," she finally managed to say.

"It's quite possible," the stranger replied almost instantly. "You knew it in your heart yourself all along, didn't you? You always knew that he was never really gone."

Victoria didn't have a retort to that, so the shadow took it upon himself to keep the conversation flowing. He had to convince her one way or another. "You need to find her before they do," he concluded.

She leapt to her feet, knocking over the chair in the process, and proceeded to push past him out the door. She didn't even bother taking her dagger out of the wall. She had plenty others to be concerned with and she needed out of that room as fast as possible. She felt like she couldn't breathe anymore. "Already on it," she hissed, leaving the shadow as far behind as possible. She didn't know where she was going or how, but she was going to find that damned woman if it was the last thing she did.

"You're welcome," the stranger smirked, before plucking Victoria's dagger out of the wall and pocketed it himself. This mission was turning out to be more dangerous than anyone would have thought.


	10. Paying the Debts

Yay! I updated! :) Hurrah! I really honestly have nothing to say here except let me know what you think and thank you to all of my reviewers who are always so kind to leave me special messages that make my day. You guys are the best! :D I don't own Sherlock Holmes, even though I should have the rights after watching the movies on repeat all day today in my sicky hour, but Victoria is mine. Finally there's something. Oh and a special thank you to my awesome beta **A Pirate By Any Other Name**.

**Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn**

**Paying The Debts**

_Human beings in a mob... What's a mob to a king? What's a king to a god? What's a god to a nonbeliever, who don't believe in anything? We make it out alive, alright alright, no church in the wild._

Sometimes it only takes a simple mistake for someone to realize just how much they're missing, and sometimes that mistake wasn't a mistake after all. One-sided people can't see past their own noses and a mistake is just that: a mistake. They fail to see the good things hidden behind the mistake, threatening to be demolished completely as more people lose faith. But faith isn't something that should be forgotten. Sometimes it only takes a little faith to turn something completely around... almost like they were never gone in the first place.

Mistakes were made, problems weren't solved and everything was just going to chaos. Perhaps some people should learn to take their own advice instead of just waiting around for someone else to solve their issues for them. If even a single person lives their life like that, everything starts to go downhill from their position in the world. It doesn't get fixed, it simply keeps decreasing and decreasing until there's simply nothing left to live for. Maybe that's why people disappear... They're never really gone, just biding their time until they realize what their true potential in life is. The people that seem to disappear never really leave us; they're always around in every turn of a corner. Sometimes it takes a year or two for someone to realize the truth behind their own lives.

The truth.

What is the truth nowadays? Everyone seems to have a different opinion about what exactly truth is. And yet, is anyone truly wrong? Truth is a character of space, something that fills up the holes in people's hearts and has them begging for more. What's even funnier is how truth and faith completely contradict each other. To be truthful is to say something is fact, to be faithful is to wish for something that may or may not come true. So which is right and which is wrong? No one can be certain. However, it is up to oneself to determine which is more beneficial in the long run. Sometimes it only takes a single moment in time for someone to be completely changed.

As she knelt beside the pillar that everyone in London had seen a million times, she felt a stabbing pain in her chest repeatedly. Indirectly, she knew that this was all her fault. She was the reason behind it all; she was the reason behind this innocent man's death. She knew it in the pit of her stomach. There was simply no other way around the truth. She had no faith left, there was nothing left to live for... The only reason that she was still around was because there was always some hope that she could find him, but that hope had been shattered with a single thought. And now the proof in front of her was more than she could possibly handle. It simply was not okay. It all came down to that.

She was broken and alone, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Another deep breath in and out. Another small touch of his name. Another sigh. Another depressing thought. It was the same repetition over and over again, nothing changed. Nothing could possibly change this disaster. Her lip trembled as she sunk lower on the cold marbled ground. She would never admit this to anyone else, but she was done for. She was simply waiting for the end to come.

It would come sooner than she would expect.

The door creaking open was the first indication that something was amiss. She swiveled her head around, quickly wiping away her tears and smoothening out her dress. She had to look like she belonged here. She was nothing but a part of the old church, a part of the furniture. It was like she was never even here. She stood dead still, hoping that it was just the wind. Deep down, she wasn't convinced.

She was silent as the tears continued to pour down her face. The guilt still washed over her like a tidal wave, and she took a shaky deep breath. This was happening and there was no way around it. The end was near.

The second indication was the footsteps. No, it wasn't the wind after all. Someone was here, and she was pretty positive that they were here for her. Why else would anyone come in this old church? There was no other reason. Oh yes, the end was definitely near.

"Who's there?" she questioned, her statement coming out more as a whisper than a shout.

The smirk was the first thing that she saw, and to her own surprise, she breathed out a sigh... one of relief. It was then that Irene Adler accepted defeat, for the first time in her entire life. Despite it all, she had never felt like this before and she wasn't planning on changing back anytime soon. There was no way she could, not after this. The Moriartys had won. It was time to give in.

The woman herself appeared around the back of another pillar towards the back of the church, flinging her black hair over her shoulder. "Just a concerned citizen," she sneered, the smirk growing wider and wider on her face until it seemed like that was the only thing left of her.

"What the hell do you want?" Irene shook her head, looking away from the Moriarty girl. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

Irene could almost feel the eye roll radiating from Victoria as she took a few more steps towards the engraved pillar in the front of the church. She took another deep breath, closing her eyes. This was the end, and surprisingly, she welcomed it.

"I was just going to let you grieve forever until it drove you insane," came Victoria's eventual answer. "But then I realized something."

"And what was that?"

This time, as the old wooden church door blew shut once more, it really was the wind. Or did she not come alone? The thought gave Irene a sense of pride. _Did Victoria not think she could handle me alone? Am I really that much a threat to her? _She shivered from the draft from the cold wind that had closed the door and kept her eyes squeezed shut. There was something there that wasn't there before.

Irene didn't know how close Victoria had gotten to her until she could feel the younger woman's breath on the back of her neck. "You're a wanted woman," she responded, her voice becoming lower and more threatening.

Irene clenched her jaw, slowly getting to her feet. She cocked her head to one side, letting out a forced breath. "Are you planning on kidnapping me?" she asked at last.

"Not quite," Victoria shrugged, her grin widening. "You see, I don't want to use force, but I will if it's necessary. It all depends on you, my dear."

Irene made an exasperated face, "Oh that's a load of bullshit."

"Is it?" Victoria questioned, her face becoming smugger by the moment. "Is it really?"

Irene chose to ignore the comments, trying to be the better person in this scenario. She held up her hand as if to slap Victoria and then lowered it, looking down at the floor. If she was going to die, it might as well be not in vain. She couldn't do this. She sighed, "What do you have planned now? Another deal going to made? Another employmentship? Another person to murder? Another set of lives to ruin?"

Victoria let out a little cackle, "That wasn't my fault."

The smirk was enough. Irene clenched her teeth together and heaved another sigh, trying to resist the urge to seriously hurt this woman. She knew that would be only stooping down to Victoria's level, and she refused to do that no matter what. Instead, she chose to simply choose her words carefully. "Of course not," she finally said. "When is anything your or your family's fault?"

"Your words hurt my dear," she responded sarcastically. "But I have a different plan for you, death would be too easy."

"Which would be?"

Victoria stared her down like she was some sort of prey, "Removing you from a scenario before it's too late."

"Too late?" asked Irene, truly curious to what the younger woman meant. "Too late for what?"

"For you to be saved."

That was the last comment she expected Victoria to say. Irene couldn't help the way her mouth dropped open, or the way she thought of responses in her head but couldn't form them into actual words. It was a complicated surprising feeling for Irene, and she wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it. So she didn't say a word.

Victoria knew exactly how to continue however, "I saved your ass once, and I can do it again can't I?"

"One debt is far too many," Irene finally spit out.

Victoria laughed again, "Oh please, you don't know a thing about debts."

There was another pause in the debate - er conversation - and Irene diverted her eyes from the stare that Victoria was currently giving her. There was something about this woman that made her skin crawl and she couldn't bear to even attempt another battle that she only knew she would lose yet again. There had to be something...

"So from whom exactly am I being saved from?" coughed Irene, not exactly knowing what else to say.

Victoria made a face, obviously annoyed at having to explain herself. "Who else knows you're alive other than me... and wants you to themselves?" She paused for a moment as Irene's brain whirred faster than the speed of light. "Who else knows your secrets and surprises?" she continued. "Who else is clever enough to figure this whole thing out? Who else may find you here, stumbling alone in the dark? Who else would not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to get what they want?"

As the raven-haired woman stumbled out of breath, Irene's heart hammered in her chest. She had a feeling that this just wasn't about someone else finding her anymore, no this was something far bigger and far more dangerous. But then again, what did she have to lose? She knew exactly what Victoria was talking about, and if she could somehow figure out what she was planning, the danger would grow to be even greater, with a better reward she might add. The decisions were uncanny.

"Watson is clever enough to find you," Irene looked up from her fixed spot on the floor at last.

There was a trill of laughter as Victoria finally caught her breath. "You honestly think I don't know that?" she questioned. "I hope he finds me. Oh, I hope he finds me and sees the master work that I have done. Maybe then he'll start realizing that I'm more dangerous than he had ever realized. Maybe then he'll discover the truth about his beloved Sherlock Holmes."

As Victoria's rant grew deeper and deeper, her voice raised at an alarming rate, causing even the large wooden doors to shake. Irene took a step back in fear, not exactly sure what she was going to do. Without warning, the doors to the old church burst open, almost on their own, and rapid gunfire sounded throughout the rooms. Irene ducked to the floor, instantly covering her head, until she was yanked to her feet not a moment later by small yet rough hands. She felt the cool blade at her throat before she had time to react any differently, and she was pulled reluctantly into the shadows before the guns could reach her.

"Don't think you're getting away that easily," sneered Victoria from behind her as Irene was pushed up the stairs into the balcony of the church. Irene didn't make a sound. She still didn't know who was behind the guns, and she wasn't exactly sure if she wished to find out. She gulped in a small breath of air before they entered a stale musty room above the main floor of the church. The knife moved away from her neck as she collapsed to the ground, desperate to find something to aid herself against both the gunmen and Victoria. There was nothing, and there would be nothing until the end of time.

The dust settled as the gunfire stopped for a moment, although Irene didn't dare get up from off the ground. She didn't know where Victoria was and, as defiant as she was, she wasn't sure how much she was willing to risk for the safety of not only herself but Watson. Victoria knew about their connection and wouldn't hesitate to use that against her. She knew how much Victoria was similar to her father, and Irene wasn't about to take any chances that could end someone's life.

"Stop it!" came the shout of a woman's voice, one that was unfamiliar to Irene, but it didn't sound like one of a killer. Let alone anyone that could handle a gun.

There was a quiet, yet audible shush, and then the creaking of a floorboard as another person walked across the ground floor of the old church. Irene breathed a sigh of relief, maybe these people were here to rescue her, not kill her. As she slowly pulled herself to the edge of the balcony to see who the intruders were, she was pulled to her feet once more. It seemed Victoria hadn't left her after all. She sighed, thrashing in frustration.

The knife returned, and with it came threatening words, "Make a move and I won't pause one moment before pulling this trigger and ending the life of your precious doctor friend down there. You'll have killed one more person."

The blood in Irene's body ran cold as she realized that it was Watson who was down there, come to save her. Relief washed over her, replaced by fear a moment later. Watson was hard on Victoria's heels, meaning that the Moriarty woman wasn't as clever as she thought she was, but then again... she was just a pawn in Victoria's game... one that Watson and his companion were about to involve themselves deeper into. She had ruined their lives again.

"Looking for this?" taunted Victoria, raising her voice so it was heard around the church. Watson and his companion instantly glanced up in their direction, and Irene averted her eyes. She couldn't bear to look them in the eyes. If only they knew why she wasn't fighting... There was a bigger reason than her own and their protection. There was something that only she (and now Victoria) knew... Why was this so hard? Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, becoming suddenly overcome with emotion.

"Irene!" shouted Watson in that concerned voice that Irene knew well. "My God, what have you done to her?"

Victoria let out another cackle, causing Irene to shiver involuntarily. "If only you knew everything Doctor," she hissed. "If only you knew what I have in store. It would chill you to the bone. You think what my father did was horrible? Multiple that by ten. You know nothing yet."

Irene missed who fired the shot. She heard the bullet explode from the handgun, slam into the wall directly next to Victoria, and felt the searing pain at her throat as Victoria dug the blade in deeper. She bit her lip, trying to force back the gasp of pain that was working its way out of her mouth. She wouldn't let them have that satisfaction.

"I thought better of you Doctor," Victoria smirked. "You wouldn't want to lose her, would you?" Blood trickled down the side of Irene's neck as the knife cut a small sliver of a wound.

Watson reached out towards them as if he could grab them both. "Stop this madness!"

His companion took a step, too, and Irene finally glanced up, pleading both of them with her eyes. She couldn't let them get involved. Not this time, not like this. She locked eyes with the doctor first, hoping he would understand someday if not today. "Please," she mouthed.

Watson hesitated for a moment before pocketing his gun and turning towards the frizzy-haired woman standing beside him. His companion frowned, not understanding what the doctor was trying to say, but Irene knew what he was attempting to explain to her. It was complicated. The woman looked up once into Irene's eyes, shifting into slits as she looked past Irene and at Victoria, before she spun on her heels and stalked out the door.

"Don't think this isn't over Victoria!" Watson shook his hand in the Moriarty girl's direction, but Victoria didn't phase one bit.

She simpered, "I'll look forward to the next time we meet Doctor Watson."

Only when the duo had left the old church and were long gone did Victoria release her grip on Irene, sending her sprawling once more across the floor. She rolled onto her back, clutching at her neck wound and trying to make sense of this all. When did it go so wrong? She had to laugh at herself. Of course.

It had gone wrong since the moment she had met Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
